How can anyone live well in Rus'? ON

© Lebedev Yu. V., introductory article, comments, 1999

© Godin I.M., heirs, illustrations, 1960

© Design of the series. Publishing house "Children's Literature", 2003

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Yu. Lebedev
Russian Odyssey

In the “Diary of a Writer” for 1877, F. M. Dostoevsky noticed a characteristic feature that appeared in the Russian people of the post-reform era - “this is a multitude, an extraordinary modern multitude of new people, a new root of Russian people who need truth, one truth without conditional lies, and who, in order to achieve this truth, will give everything decisively.” Dostoevsky saw in them “the advancing future Russia.”

At the very beginning of the 20th century, another writer, V. G. Korolenko, made a discovery that struck him from a summer trip to the Urals: “At the same time as in the centers and at the heights of our culture they were talking about Nansen, about Andre’s bold attempt to penetrate in a balloon to North Pole - in the distant Ural villages there was talk about the Belovodsk kingdom and their own religious-scientific expedition was being prepared.” Among ordinary Cossacks, the conviction spread and strengthened that “somewhere out there, “beyond the distance of bad weather,” “beyond the valleys, beyond the mountains, beyond the wide seas,” there exists a “blessed country,” in which, by the providence of God and the accidents of history, it has been preserved and flourishes throughout integrity is the complete and complete formula of grace. This is a real fairy-tale country of all centuries and peoples, colored only by the Old Believer mood. In it, planted by the Apostle Thomas, true faith blooms, with churches, bishops, patriarchs and pious kings... This kingdom knows neither theft, nor murder, nor self-interest, since true faith gives birth there to true piety.”

It turns out that back in the late 1860s, the Don Cossacks corresponded with the Ural Cossacks, collected quite a significant amount and equipped the Cossack Varsonofy Baryshnikov and two comrades to search for this promised land. Baryshnikov set off through Constantinople to Asia Minor, then to the Malabar coast, and finally to the East Indies... The expedition returned with disappointing news: it failed to find Belovodye. Thirty years later, in 1898, the dream of the Belovodsk kingdom flares up with renewed vigor, funds are found, and a new pilgrimage is organized. On May 30, 1898, a “deputation” of Cossacks boarded a ship departing from Odessa for Constantinople.

“From this day, in fact, the foreign journey of the deputies of the Urals to the Belovodsk kingdom began, and among the international crowd of merchants, military men, scientists, tourists, diplomats traveling around the world out of curiosity or in search of money, fame and pleasure, three natives, as it were, got mixed up from another world, looking for ways to the fabulous Belovodsk kingdom.” Korolenko described in detail all the vicissitudes of this unusual journey, in which, despite all the curiosity and strangeness of the conceived enterprise, the same Russia of honest people, noted by Dostoevsky, “who need only the truth”, who “have an unshakable desire for honesty and truth”, appeared indestructible, and for the word of truth each of them will give his life and all his advantages.”

By the end of the 19th century, not only the top of Russian society was drawn into the great spiritual pilgrimage, all of Russia, all of its people, rushed to it.

“These Russian homeless wanderers,” Dostoevsky noted in a speech about Pushkin, “continue their wanderings to this day and, it seems, will not disappear for a long time.” For a long time, “for the Russian wanderer needs precisely universal happiness in order to calm down - he will not be reconciled cheaper.”

“There was approximately the following case: I knew one person who believed in a righteous land,” said another wanderer in our literature, Luke, from M. Gorky’s play “At the Depths.” “There must, he said, be a righteous country in the world... in that land, they say, there are special people inhabiting... good people!” They respect each other, they simply help each other... and everything is nice and good with them! And so the man kept getting ready to go... to look for this righteous land. He was poor, he lived poorly... and when things were so difficult for him that he could even lie down and die, he did not lose his spirit, and everything happened, he just grinned and said: “Nothing!” I'll be patient! A few more - I’ll wait... and then I’ll give up this whole life and - I’ll go to the righteous land...” He had only one joy - this land... And to this place - it was in Siberia - they sent an exiled scientist... with books, with plans he, a scientist, with all sorts of things... The man says to the scientist: “Show me, do me a favor, where the righteous land lies and how to get there?” Now it was the scientist who opened his books, laid out his plans... he looked and looked - no nowhere is there a righteous land! “Everything is true, all the lands are shown, but the righteous one is not!”

The man doesn’t believe... There must be, he says... look better! Otherwise, he says, your books and plans are of no use if there is no righteous land... The scientist is offended. My plans, he says, are the most faithful, but there is no righteous land at all. Well, then the man got angry - how could that be? Lived, lived, endured, endured and believed everything - there is! but according to plans it turns out - no! Robbery!.. And he says to the scientist: “Oh, you... such a bastard!” You are a scoundrel, not a scientist...” Yes, in his ear - once! Moreover!.. ( After a pause.) And after that he went home and hanged himself!”

The 1860s marked a sharp historical turning point in the destinies of Russia, which henceforth broke with the legal, “stay-at-home” existence and the whole world, all the people set out on a long path of spiritual quest, marked by ups and downs, fatal temptations and deviations, but the righteous path lies precisely in passion , in the sincerity of his inescapable desire to find the truth. And perhaps for the first time, Nekrasov’s poetry responded to this deep process, which covered not only the “tops”, but also the very “bottoms” of society.

1

The poet began work on the grandiose plan of a “people's book” in 1863, and ended up mortally ill in 1877, with a bitter awareness of the incompleteness and incompleteness of his plan: “One thing I deeply regret is that I did not finish my poem “To whom in Rus' to live well". It “should have included all the experience given to Nikolai Alekseevich by studying the people, all the information about them accumulated “by word of mouth” over twenty years,” recalled G. I. Uspensky about conversations with Nekrasov.

However, the question of the “incompleteness” of “Who Lives Well in Rus'” is very controversial and problematic. Firstly, the poet’s own confessions are subjectively exaggerated. It is known that a writer always has a feeling of dissatisfaction, and the larger the idea, the more acute it is. Dostoevsky wrote about The Brothers Karamazov: “I myself think that not even one tenth of it was possible to express what I wanted.” But on this basis, do we dare to consider Dostoevsky’s novel a fragment of an unrealized plan? It’s the same with “Who Lives Well in Rus'.”

Secondly, the poem “Who Lives Well in Rus'” was conceived as an epic, that is, a work of art depicting with the maximum degree of completeness and objectivity an entire era in the life of the people. Since folk life is limitless and inexhaustible in its countless manifestations, the epic in any of its varieties (poem-epic, novel-epic) is characterized by incompleteness and incompleteness. This is its specific difference from other forms of poetic art.

"This tricky song
He will sing to the end of the word,
Who is the whole earth, baptized Rus',
It will go from end to end."
Her Christ-pleaser himself
He hasn’t finished singing - he’s sleeping in eternal sleep -

This is how Nekrasov expressed his understanding of the epic plan in the poem “Peddlers.” The epic can be continued indefinitely, but it is also possible to put an end to some high segment of its path.

Until now, researchers of Nekrasov’s work are arguing about the sequence of arrangement of parts of “Who Lives Well in Rus',” since the dying poet did not have time to make final orders in this regard.

It is noteworthy that this dispute itself involuntarily confirms the epic nature of “Who Lives Well in Rus'.” The composition of this work is built according to the laws of classical epic: it consists of separate, relatively autonomous parts and chapters. Outwardly, these parts are connected by the theme of the road: seven truth-seekers wander around Rus', trying to resolve the question that haunts them: who can live well in Rus'? In the “Prologue” there seems to be a clear outline of the journey - a meeting with a landowner, an official, a merchant, a minister and a tsar. However, the epic lacks a clear and unambiguous sense of purpose. Nekrasov does not force the action and is in no hurry to bring it to an all-resolving conclusion. As an epic artist, he strives for a complete recreation of life, for revealing the entire diversity of folk characters, all the indirectness, all the meandering of folk paths, paths and roads.

The world in the epic narrative appears as it is - disordered and unexpected, devoid of linear movement. The author of the epic allows for “digressions, trips into the past, leaps somewhere sideways, to the side.” According to the definition of the modern literary theorist G.D. Gachev, “the epic is like a child walking through the cabinet of curiosities of the universe. One character, or a building, or a thought caught his attention - and the author, forgetting about everything, plunges into it; then he was distracted by another - and he gave himself up to him just as completely. But this is not just a compositional principle, not just the specificity of the plot in the epic... Anyone who, while narrating, makes “digressions”, lingers on this or that subject for an unexpectedly long time; the one who succumbs to the temptation to describe both this and that and is choked with greed, sinning against the pace of the narrative, thereby speaks of the wastefulness, the abundance of being, that he (being) has nowhere to rush. In other words: it expresses the idea that being reigns over the principle of time (while the dramatic form, on the contrary, emphasizes the power of time - it is not for nothing that a seemingly only “formal” demand for the unity of time was born there).

The fairy-tale motifs introduced into the epic “Who Lives Well in Rus'” allow Nekrasov to freely and easily deal with time and space, easily transfer the action from one end of Russia to the other, slow down or speed up time according to fairy-tale laws. What unites the epic is not the external plot, not the movement towards an unambiguous result, but the internal plot: slowly, step by step, the contradictory but irreversible growth of national self-awareness, which has not yet come to a conclusion, is still on the difficult roads of quest, becomes clear. In this sense, the plot-compositional looseness of the poem is not accidental: it expresses through its disorganization the variegation and diversity of people’s life, which thinks about itself differently, evaluates its place in the world and its purpose differently.

In an effort to recreate the moving panorama of folk life in its entirety, Nekrasov also uses all the wealth of oral folk art. But the folklore element in the epic also expresses the gradual growth of national self-awareness: the fairy-tale motifs of the “Prologue” are replaced by the epic epic, then by lyrical folk songs in “Peasant Woman” and, finally, by the songs of Grisha Dobrosklonov in “A Feast for the Whole World”, striving to become folk and already partially accepted and understood by the people. The men listen to his songs, sometimes nod in agreement, but they have not yet heard the last song, “Rus”: he has not yet sung it to them. And therefore the ending of the poem is open to the future, not resolved.

If only our wanderers could be under one roof,
If only they could know what was happening to Grisha.

But the wanderers did not hear the song “Rus”, which means they did not yet understand what the “embodiment of people’s happiness” was. It turns out that Nekrasov did not finish his song not only because death got in the way. People’s life itself did not finish singing his songs in those years. More than a hundred years have passed since then, and the song begun by the great poet about the Russian peasantry is still being sung. In “The Feast,” only a glimpse of the future happiness is outlined, which the poet dreams of, realizing how many roads lie ahead before its real embodiment. The incompleteness of “Who Lives Well in Rus'” is fundamental and artistically significant as a sign of a folk epic.

“Who Lives Well in Rus'” both as a whole and in each of its parts resembles a peasant lay gathering, which is the most complete expression of democratic people's self-government. At such a gathering, residents of one village or several villages that were part of the “world” resolved all issues of common worldly life. The gathering had nothing in common with a modern meeting. The chairman leading the discussion was absent. Each community member, at will, entered into a conversation or skirmish, defending his point of view. Instead of voting, the principle of general consent was in effect. The dissatisfied were convinced or retreated, and during the discussion a “worldly verdict” matured. If there was no general agreement, the meeting was postponed to the next day. Gradually, during heated debates, a unanimous opinion matured, agreement was sought and found.

A contributor to Nekrasov’s “Domestic Notes”, the populist writer N. N. Zlatovratsky described the original peasant life this way: “This is the second day that we have had gathering after gathering. You look out the window, now at one end, now at the other end of the village, there are crowds of owners, old people, children: some are sitting, others are standing in front of them, with their hands behind their backs and listening attentively to someone. This someone waves his arms, bends his whole body, shouts something very convincingly, falls silent for a few minutes and then starts convincing again. But suddenly they object to him, they object somehow at once, their voices rise higher and higher, they shout at the top of their lungs, as befits such a vast hall as the surrounding meadows and fields, everyone speaks, without being embarrassed by anyone or anything, as befits a free a gathering of equal persons. Not the slightest sign of formality. Foreman Maxim Maksimych himself stands somewhere on the side, like the most invisible member of our community... Here everything goes straight, everything becomes an edge; If anyone, out of cowardice or calculation, decides to get away with silence, he will be mercilessly exposed. And there are very few of these faint-hearted people at especially important gatherings. I saw the most meek, most unrequited men who<…>at gatherings, in moments of general excitement, they were completely transformed and<…>they gained such courage that they managed to outdo the obviously brave men. At the moments of its apogee, the gathering becomes simply an open mutual confession and mutual exposure, a manifestation of the widest publicity.”

Nekrasov’s entire epic poem is a flaring up worldly gathering that is gradually gaining strength. It reaches its peak in the final "Feast for the Whole World." However, a general “worldly verdict” is still not passed. Only the path to it is outlined, many initial obstacles have been removed, and on many points a movement towards general agreement has been identified. But there is no conclusion, life has not stopped, gatherings have not stopped, the epic is open to the future. For Nekrasov, the process itself is important here; it is important that the peasantry not only thought about the meaning of life, but also set out on a difficult, long path of truth-seeking. Let's try to take a closer look at it, moving from “Prologue. Part one" to "The Peasant Woman", "The Last One" and "A Feast for the Whole World".

2

In the "Prologue" the meeting of seven men is narrated as a great epic event.

In what year - calculate
Guess what land?
On the sidewalk
Seven men came together...

This is how epic and fairy-tale heroes came together for a battle or a feast of honor. Time and space acquire an epic scope in the poem: the action is carried out throughout Rus'. The tightened province, Terpigorev district, Pustoporozhnaya volost, the villages of Zaplatovo, Dyryavino, Razutovo, Znobishino, Gorelovo, Neelovo, Neurozhaina can be attributed to any of the Russian provinces, districts, volosts and villages. The general sign of post-reform ruin is captured. And the question itself, which excited the men, concerns all of Russia - peasant, noble, merchant. Therefore, the quarrel that arose between them is not an ordinary event, but great debate. In the soul of every grain grower, with his own private destiny, with his own everyday interests, a question arose that concerns everyone, the entire people's world.

Each one in his own way
Left the house before noon:
That path led to the forge,
He went to the village of Ivankovo
Call Father Prokofy
Baptize the child.
Groin honeycomb
Carried to the market in Velikoye,
And the two Gubina brothers
So easy with a halter
Catch a stubborn horse
They went to their own herd.
It's high time for everyone
Return on your own way -
They are walking side by side!

Each man had his own path, and suddenly they found a common path: the question of happiness united the people. And therefore, before us are no longer ordinary men with their own individual destiny and personal interests, but guardians for the entire peasant world, truth-seekers. The number “seven” is magical in folklore. Seven Wanderers– an image of great epic proportions. The fabulous flavor of the “Prologue” raises the narrative above everyday life, above peasant life and gives the action an epic universality.

The fairy-tale atmosphere in the Prologue has many meanings. Giving events a national sound, it also turns into a convenient method for the poet to characterize national self-consciousness. Let us note that Nekrasov plays with the fairy tale. In general, his treatment of folklore is more free and relaxed compared to the poems “Peddlers” and “Frost, Red Nose”. Yes, and he treats the people differently, often makes fun of the peasants, provokes readers, paradoxically sharpens the people's view of things, and laughs at the limitations of the peasant worldview. The intonation structure of the narrative in “Who Lives Well in Rus'” is very flexible and rich: there is the author’s good-natured smile, condescension, light irony, a bitter joke, lyrical regret, grief, reflection, and appeal. The intonation and stylistic polyphony of the narrative in its own way reflects the new phase of folk life. Before us is the post-reform peasantry, which has broken with the immovable patriarchal existence, with the age-old worldly and spiritual settled life. This is already a wandering Rus' with awakened self-awareness, noisy, discordant, prickly and unyielding, prone to quarrels and disputes. And the author does not stand aside from her, but turns into an equal participant in her life. He either rises above the disputants, then becomes imbued with sympathy for one of the disputing parties, then becomes touched, then becomes indignant. Just as Rus' lives in disputes, in search of truth, so the author is in an intense dialogue with her.

In the literature about “Who Lives Well in Rus'” one can find the statement that the dispute between the seven wanderers that opens the poem corresponds to the original compositional plan, from which the poet subsequently retreated. Already in the first part there was a deviation from the planned plot, and instead of meeting with the rich and noble, truth-seekers began to interview the crowd.

But this deviation immediately occurs at the “upper” level. For some reason, instead of the landowner and the official whom the men had designated for questioning, a meeting takes place with a priest. Is this a coincidence?

Let us note first of all that the “formula” of the dispute proclaimed by the men signifies not so much the original intention as the level of national self-awareness that manifests itself in this dispute. And Nekrasov cannot help but show the reader its limitations: men understand happiness in a primitive way and reduce it to a well-fed life and material security. What is it worth, for example, such a candidate for the role of a lucky man, as the “merchant” is proclaimed, and even a “fat-bellied one”! And behind the argument between the men - who lives happily and freely in Rus'? - immediately, but still gradually, muffled, another, much more significant and important question arises, which makes up the soul of the epic poem - how to understand human happiness, where to look for it and what does it consist of?

In the final chapter, “A Feast for the Whole World,” through the mouth of Grisha Dobrosklonov, the following assessment is given of the current state of people’s life: “The Russian people are gathering their strength and learning to be citizens.”

In fact, this formula contains the main pathos of the poem. It is important for Nekrasov to show how the forces that unite them are maturing among the people and what civic orientation they are acquiring. The intent of the poem is by no means to force the wanderers to carry out successive meetings according to the program they have planned. Much more important here is a completely different question: what is happiness in the eternal, Orthodox Christian understanding and are the Russian people capable of combining peasant “politics” with Christian morality?

Therefore, folklore motifs in the Prologue play a dual role. On the one hand, the poet uses them to give the beginning of the work a high epic sound, and on the other hand, to emphasize the limited consciousness of the disputants, who deviate in their idea of ​​​​happiness from the righteous to the evil paths. Let us remember that Nekrasov spoke about this more than once for a long time, for example, in one of the versions of “Song to Eremushka,” created back in 1859.

Pleasures change
Living does not mean drinking and eating.
There are better aspirations in the world,
There is a nobler good.
Despise the evil ways:
There is debauchery and vanity.
Honor the covenants that are forever right
And learn them from Christ.

These same two paths, sung over Russia by the angel of mercy in “A Feast for the Whole World,” are now opening up before the Russian people, who are celebrating a funeral service and are faced with a choice.

In the middle of the world
For a free heart
There are two ways.
Weigh the proud strength,
Weigh your strong will:
Which way to go?

This song sounds over Russia, coming to life from the lips of the messenger of the Creator himself, and the fate of the people will directly depend on which path the wanderers take after long wanderings and meanderings along Russian country roads.

From 1863 to 1877 Nekrasov created “Who Lives Well in Rus'.” The idea, characters, plot changed several times during the work. Most likely, the plan was not fully revealed: the author died in 1877. Despite this, “Who Lives Well in Rus'” as a folk poem is considered a completed work. It was supposed to have 8 parts, but only 4 were completed.

The poem “Who Lives Well in Rus'” begins with the introduction of the characters. These heroes are seven men from the villages: Dyryavino, Zaplatovo, Gorelovo, Neurozhaika, Znobishino, Razutovo, Neelovo. They meet and start a conversation about who lives happily and well in Rus'. Each of the men has his own opinion. One believes that the landowner is happy, the other - that he is an official. The peasants from the poem “Who Lives Well in Rus'” are also called happy by the merchant, the priest, the minister, the noble boyar, and the tsar. The heroes began to argue and lit a fire. It even came to a fight. However, they fail to come to an agreement.

Self-assembled tablecloth

Suddenly Pakhom completely unexpectedly caught the chick. The little warbler, his mother, asked the man to let the chick go free. For this, she suggested where you can find a self-assembled tablecloth - a very useful thing that will certainly come in handy on a long journey. Thanks to her, the men did not lack food during the trip.

The priest's story

The work “Who Lives Well in Rus'” continues with the following events. The heroes decided to find out at any cost who lives happily and cheerfully in Rus'. They hit the road. First, on the way they met a priest. The men turned to him with a question about whether he lived happily. Then the pope talked about his life. He believes (in which the men could not but agree with him) that happiness is impossible without peace, honor, and wealth. Pop believes that if he had all this, he would be completely happy. However, he is obliged, day and night, in any weather, to go where he is told - to the dying, to the sick. Every time the priest has to see human grief and suffering. He sometimes even lacks the strength to take retribution for his service, since people tear the latter away from themselves. Once upon a time everything was completely different. The priest says that rich landowners generously rewarded him for funeral services, baptisms, and weddings. However, now the rich are far away, and the poor have no money. The priest also has no honor: the men do not respect him, as many folk songs testify to.

Wanderers go to the fair

Wanderers understand that this person cannot be called happy, as noted by the author of the work “Who Lives Well in Rus'.” The heroes set off again and find themselves along the road in the village of Kuzminskoye, at the fair. This village is dirty, although rich. There are a lot of establishments in it where residents indulge in drunkenness. They drink away their last money. For example, an old man had no money left to buy shoes for his granddaughter, since he drank everything away. All this is observed by wanderers from the work “Who Lives Well in Rus'” (Nekrasov).

Yakim Nagoy

They also notice fairground entertainment and fights and argue that a man is forced to drink: it helps him withstand hard work and eternal hardships. An example of this is Yakim Nagoy, a man from the village of Bosovo. He works himself to death and drinks until he is half to death. Yakim believes that if there were no drunkenness, there would be great sadness.

The wanderers continue their journey. In the work “Who Lives Well in Rus',” Nekrasov talks about how they want to find happy and cheerful people and promise to give these lucky people free water. Therefore, a variety of people are trying to pass themselves off as such - a former servant suffering from paralysis, who for many years licked the master's plates, exhausted workers, beggars. However, the travelers themselves understand that these people cannot be called happy.

Ermil Girin

The men once heard about a man named Ermil Girin. Nekrasov further tells his story, of course, but does not convey all the details. Yermil Girin is a burgomaster who was very respected, a fair and honest person. He intended to one day buy the mill. The men lent him money without a receipt, they trusted him so much. However, a peasant revolt occurred. Now Yermil is in prison.

Obolt-Obolduev's story

Gavrila Obolt-Obolduev, one of the landowners, spoke about the fate of the nobles after They used to own a lot: serfs, villages, forests. On holidays, nobles could invite serfs into their homes to pray. But after that the master was no longer the full owner of the men. The wanderers knew very well how difficult life was during the times of serfdom. But it is also not difficult for them to understand that things became much harder for the nobles after the abolition of serfdom. And it’s not easier for men now. The wanderers realized that they would not be able to find a happy one among the men. So they decided to go to the women.

Life of Matryona Korchagina

The peasants were told that in one village there lived a peasant woman named Matryona Timofeevna Korchagina, whom everyone called lucky. They found her, and Matryona told the men about her life. Nekrasov continues this story “Who Lives Well in Rus'.”

A brief summary of this woman's life story is as follows. Her childhood was cloudless and happy. She had a hard-working family that didn't drink. The mother cared for and cherished her daughter. When Matryona grew up, she became a beauty. One day, a stove maker from another village, Philip Korchagin, wooed her. Matryona told how he persuaded her to marry him. This was the only bright memory of this woman in her entire life, which was hopeless and dreary, although her husband treated her well by peasant standards: he almost never beat her. However, he went to the city to earn money. Matryona lived in her father-in-law's house. Everyone here treated her badly. The only one who was kind to the peasant woman was the very old grandfather Savely. He told her that he was sent to hard labor for the murder of the manager.

Soon Matryona gave birth to Demushka, a sweet and beautiful child. She could not part with him for a minute. However, the woman had to work in the field, where her mother-in-law did not allow her to take the child. Grandfather Savely was watching the baby. One day he did not take care of Demushka, and the child was eaten by pigs. They came from the city to investigate, and they opened up the baby in front of the mother’s eyes. This was the hardest blow for Matryona.

Then five children were born to her, all boys. Matryona was a kind and caring mother. One day Fedot, one of the children, was tending sheep. One of them was carried away by a she-wolf. The shepherd was to blame for this and should have been punished with whips. Then Matryona begged her to be beaten instead of her son.

She also said that they once wanted to recruit her husband as a soldier, although this was a violation of the law. Then Matryona went to the city while pregnant. Here the woman met Elena Alexandrovna, the kind governor’s wife, who helped her, and Matryona’s husband was released.

The peasants considered Matryona a happy woman. However, after listening to her story, the men realized that she could not be called happy. There was too much suffering and troubles in her life. Matryona Timofeevna herself also says that a woman in Rus', especially a peasant woman, cannot be happy. Her lot is very hard.

Crazy landowner

Men-wanderers are on their way to the Volga. Here comes the mowing. People are busy with hard work. Suddenly an amazing scene: the mowers humiliate themselves and please the old master. It turned out that the landowner He could not understand what had already been abolished. Therefore, his relatives persuaded the men to behave as if it was still in effect. They were promised for this. The men agreed, but were deceived once again. When the old master died, the heirs gave them nothing.

The story of Jacob

Repeatedly along the way, wanderers listen to folk songs - hungry, soldier's and others, as well as various stories. They remembered, for example, the story of Yakov, the faithful slave. He always tried to please and appease the master, who humiliated and beat the slave. However, this led to Yakov loving him even more. The master's legs gave out in old age. Yakov continued to look after him as if he were his own child. But he received no gratitude for this. Grisha, a young guy, Jacob's nephew, wanted to marry a beauty - a serf girl. Out of jealousy, the old master sent Grisha as a recruit. Yakov fell into drunkenness from this grief, but then returned to the master and took revenge. He took him to the forest and hanged himself right in front of the master. Since his legs were paralyzed, he could not escape anywhere. The master sat all night under Yakov's corpse.

Grigory Dobrosklonov - people's defender

This and other stories make men think that they will not be able to find happy people. However, they learn about Grigory Dobrosklonov, a seminarian. This is the son of a sexton, who has seen the suffering and hopeless life of the people since childhood. He made a choice in his early youth, he decided that he would give his strength to fight for the happiness of his people. Gregory is educated and smart. He understands that Rus' is strong and will cope with all troubles. In the future, Gregory will have a glorious path ahead, the great name of the people's intercessor, “consumption and Siberia.”

The men hear about this intercessor, but they do not yet understand that such people can make others happy. This will not happen soon.

Heroes of the poem

Nekrasov depicted various segments of the population. Simple peasants become the main characters of the work. They were freed by the reform of 1861. But their life did not change much after the abolition of serfdom. The same hard work, hopeless life. After the reform, peasants who had their own lands found themselves in an even more difficult situation.

The characteristics of the heroes of the work “Who Lives Well in Rus'” can be supplemented by the fact that the author created surprisingly reliable images of peasants. Their characters are very accurate, although contradictory. Not only kindness, strength and integrity of character are found in Russian people. They have preserved at the genetic level servility, servility, and readiness to submit to a despot and tyrant. The coming of Grigory Dobrosklonov, a new man, is a symbol of the fact that honest, noble, intelligent people are appearing among the downtrodden peasantry. May their fate be unenviable and difficult. Thanks to them, self-awareness will arise among the peasant masses, and people will finally be able to fight for happiness. This is exactly what the heroes and the author of the poem dream about. ON THE. Nekrasov (“Who Lives Well in Russia”, “Russian Women”, “Frost, and Other Works”) is considered a truly national poet, who was interested in the fate of the peasantry, their suffering, problems. The poet could not remain indifferent to his difficult lot. The work of N. A. Nekrasov’s “Who Lives Well in Russia” was written with such sympathy for the people that today it makes us sympathize with their fate in that difficult time.

Illustration by Sergei Gerasimov “Dispute”

One day, seven men - recent serfs, and now temporarily obliged "from adjacent villages - Zaplatova, Dyryavina, Razutova, Znobishina, Gorelova, Neyolova, Neurozhaika, etc." meet on the main road. Instead of going their own way, the men start an argument about who lives happily and freely in Rus'. Each of them judges in his own way who is the main lucky person in Rus': a landowner, an official, a priest, a merchant, a noble boyar, a minister of sovereigns or a tsar.

While arguing, they do not notice that they have taken a detour of thirty miles. Seeing that it is too late to return home, the men make a fire and continue the argument over vodka - which, of course, little by little develops into a fight. But a fight does not help resolve the issue that worries the men.

The solution is found unexpectedly: one of the men, Pakhom, catches a warbler chick, and in order to free the chick, the warbler tells the men where they can find a self-assembled tablecloth. Now the men are provided with bread, vodka, cucumbers, kvass, tea - in a word, everything they need for a long journey. And besides, a self-assembled tablecloth will repair and wash their clothes! Having received all these benefits, the men make a vow to find out “who lives happily and freely in Rus'.”

The first possible “lucky person” they meet along the way turns out to be a priest. (It was not right for the soldiers and beggars they met to ask about happiness!) But the priest’s answer to the question of whether his life is sweet disappoints the men. They agree with the priest that happiness lies in peace, wealth and honor. But the priest does not possess any of these benefits. In the haymaking, in the harvest, in the dead of autumn night, in the bitter frost, he must go to where there are the sick, the dying and those being born. And every time his soul hurts at the sight of funeral sobs and orphan's sadness - so much so that his hand does not rise to take copper coins - a pitiful reward for the demand. The landowners, who previously lived in family estates and got married here, baptized children, buried the dead, are now scattered not only throughout Rus', but also in distant foreign lands; there is no hope for their retribution. Well, the men themselves know how much respect the priest deserves: they feel embarrassed when the priest reproaches him for obscene songs and insults towards priests.

Realizing that the Russian priest is not one of the lucky ones, the men go to a holiday fair in the trading village of Kuzminskoye to ask people about happiness. In a rich and dirty village there are two churches, a tightly boarded up house with the sign “school”, a paramedic’s hut, a dirty hotel. But most of all in the village there are drinking establishments, in each of which they barely have time to cope with thirsty people. Old man Vavila cannot buy goatskin shoes for his granddaughter because he drank himself to a penny. It’s good that Pavlusha Veretennikov, a lover of Russian songs, whom everyone calls “master” for some reason, buys him the treasured gift.

Male wanderers watch the farcical Petrushka, watch how the ladies stock up on books - but not Belinsky and Gogol, but portraits of unknown fat generals and works about “my lord stupid”. They also see how a busy trading day ends: widespread drunkenness, fights on the way home. However, the men are indignant at Pavlusha Veretennikov’s attempt to measure the peasant against the master’s standard. In their opinion, it is impossible for a sober person to live in Rus': he will not withstand either backbreaking labor or peasant misfortune; without drinking, bloody rain would pour out of the angry peasant soul. These words are confirmed by Yakim Nagoy from the village of Bosovo - one of those who “works until they die, drinks until they die.” Yakim believes that only pigs walk on the earth and never see the sky. During the fire, he himself did not save the money he had accumulated throughout his life, but the useless and beloved pictures hanging in the hut; he is sure that with the cessation of drunkenness, great sadness will come to Rus'.

Male wanderers do not lose hope of finding people who live well in Rus'. But even for the promise of giving free water to the lucky ones, they fail to find them. For the sake of free booze, both the overworked worker, the paralyzed former servant who spent forty years licking the master’s plates with the best French truffle, and even ragged beggars are ready to declare themselves lucky.

Finally, someone tells them the story of Yermil Girin, the mayor in the estate of Prince Yurlov, who earned universal respect for his justice and honesty. When Girin needed money to buy the mill, the men lent it to him without even requiring a receipt. But Yermil is now unhappy: after the peasant revolt, he is in prison.

The ruddy sixty-year-old landowner Gavrila Obolt-Obolduev tells the wandering peasants about the misfortune that befell the nobles after the peasant reform. He remembers how in the old days everything amused the master: villages, forests, fields, serf actors, musicians, hunters, who completely belonged to him. Obolt-Obolduev talks with emotion about how on the twelve holidays he invited his serfs to pray in the master's house - despite the fact that after this he had to drive the women away from the entire estate to wash the floors.

And although the peasants themselves know that life in serfdom was far from the idyll depicted by Obolduev, they still understand: the great chain of serfdom, having broken, hit both the master, who was immediately deprived of his usual way of life, and the peasant.

Desperate to find someone happy among the men, the wanderers decide to ask the women. The surrounding peasants remember that Matryona Timofeevna Korchagina lives in the village of Klin, whom everyone considers lucky. But Matryona herself thinks differently. In confirmation, she tells the wanderers the story of her life.

Before her marriage, Matryona lived in a teetotal and wealthy peasant family. She married a stove-maker from a foreign village, Philip Korchagin. But the only happy night for her was that night when the groom persuaded Matryona to marry him; then the usual hopeless life of a village woman began. True, her husband loved her and beat her only once, but soon he went to work in St. Petersburg, and Matryona was forced to endure insults in her father-in-law’s family. The only one who felt sorry for Matryona was grandfather Savely, who was living out his life in the family after hard labor, where he ended up for the murder of the hated German manager. Savely told Matryona what Russian heroism is: it is impossible to defeat a peasant, because he “bends, but does not break.”

The birth of Demushka's first child brightened Matryona's life. But soon her mother-in-law forbade her to take the child into the field, and the old grandfather Savely did not keep an eye on the baby and fed him to pigs. In front of Matryona's eyes, judges who had arrived from the city performed an autopsy on her child. Matryona could not forget her firstborn, although after that she had five sons. One of them, the shepherd Fedot, once allowed a she-wolf to carry away a sheep. Matryona accepted the punishment assigned to her son. Then, being pregnant with her son Liodor, she was forced to go to the city to seek justice: her husband, bypassing the laws, was taken into the army. Matryona was then helped by the governor Elena Alexandrovna, for whom the whole family is now praying.

By all peasant standards, Matryona Korchagina’s life can be considered happy. But it is impossible to tell about the invisible spiritual storm that passed through this woman - just like about unpaid mortal grievances, and about the blood of the firstborn. Matrena Timofeevna is convinced that a Russian peasant woman cannot be happy at all, because the keys to her happiness and free will are lost to God himself.

At the height of haymaking, wanderers come to the Volga. Here they witness a strange scene. A noble family swims to the shore in three boats. The mowers, who had just sat down to rest, immediately jumped up to show the old master their zeal. It turns out that the peasants of the village of Vakhlachina help the heirs hide the abolition of serfdom from the crazy landowner Utyatin. The relatives of the Last-Duckling promise the men floodplain meadows for this. But after the long-awaited death of the Last One, the heirs forget their promises, and the whole peasant performance turns out to be in vain.

Here, near the village of Vakhlachina, wanderers listen to peasant songs - corvée, hunger, soldier, salty - and stories about serfdom. One of these stories is about the exemplary slave Yakov the Faithful. Yakov's only joy was pleasing his master, the small landowner Polivanov. Tyrant Polivanov, in gratitude, hit Yakov in the teeth with his heel, which aroused even greater love in the lackey’s soul. As Polivanov grew older, his legs became weak, and Yakov began to follow him like a child. But when Yakov’s nephew, Grisha, decided to marry the beautiful serf Arisha, Polivanov, out of jealousy, gave the guy as a recruit. Yakov started drinking, but soon returned to the master. And yet he managed to take revenge on Polivanov - the only way available to him, the lackey. Having taken the master into the forest, Yakov hanged himself right above him on a pine tree. Polivanov spent the night under the corpse of his faithful servant, driving away birds and wolves with groans of horror.

Another story - about two great sinners - is told to the men by God's wanderer Jonah Lyapushkin. The Lord awakened the conscience of the chieftain of the robbers Kudeyar. The robber atoned for his sins for a long time, but all of them were forgiven him only after he, in a surge of anger, killed the cruel Pan Glukhovsky.

The wandering men also listen to the story of another sinner - Gleb the elder, who for money hid the last will of the late widower admiral, who decided to free his peasants.

But it is not only wandering men who think about the people’s happiness. The sexton’s son, seminarian Grisha Dobrosklonov, lives on Vakhlachin. In his heart, love for his late mother merged with love for all of Vakhlachina. For fifteen years Grisha knew for sure who he was ready to give his life to, for whom he was ready to die. He thinks of all the mysterious Rus' as a wretched, abundant, powerful and powerless mother, and expects that the indestructible power that he feels in his own soul will still be reflected in it. Such strong souls as Grisha Dobrosklonov’s are called by the angel of mercy to an honest path. Fate is preparing for Grisha “a glorious path, a great name for the people’s intercessor, consumption and Siberia.”

If the wandering men knew what was happening in the soul of Grisha Dobrosklonov, they would probably understand that they could already return to their native shelter, because the goal of their journey had been achieved.

Retold

Who can live well in Rus'?

Nikolai Alekseevich Nekrasov

“Who Lives Well in Rus'” is Nekrasov’s final work, a folk epic, which includes the entire centuries-old experience of peasant life, all the information about the people collected by the poet “by word” for twenty years.

Nikolai Alekseevich Nekrasov

Who can live well in Rus'?

PART ONE

In what year - calculate

Guess what land?

On the sidewalk

Seven men came together:

Seven temporarily obliged,

A tightened province,

Terpigoreva County,

Empty parish,

From adjacent villages:

Zaplatova, Dyryavina,

Razutova, Znobishina,

Gorelova, Neelova -

There is also a poor harvest,

They came together and argued:

Who has fun?

Free in Rus'?

Roman said: to the landowner,

Demyan said: to the official,

Luke said: ass.

To the fat-bellied merchant! -

The Gubin brothers said,

Ivan and Metrodor.

Old man Pakhom pushed

And he said, looking at the ground:

To the noble boyar,

To the sovereign minister.

And Prov said: to the king...

The guy's a bull: he'll get in trouble

What a whim in the head -

Stake her from there

You can’t knock them out: they resist,

Everyone stands on their own!

Is this the kind of argument they started?

What do passers-by think?

You know, the kids found the treasure

And they share among themselves...

Each one in his own way

Left the house before noon:

That path led to the forge,

He went to the village of Ivankovo

Call Father Prokofy

Baptize the child.

Groin honeycomb

Carried to the market in Velikoye,

And the two Gubina brothers

So easy with a halter

Catch a stubborn horse

They went to their own herd.

It's high time for everyone

Return on your own way -

They are walking side by side!

They walk as if they are being chased

Behind them are gray wolves,

What's further is quick.

They go - they reproach!

They scream - they won’t come to their senses!

But time doesn’t wait.

They didn’t notice the dispute

As the red sun set,

How evening came.

I'd probably kiss you all night

So they went - where, not knowing,

If only they met a woman,

Gnarled Durandiha,

She didn’t shout: “Reverends!

Where are you looking at night?

Have you decided to go?..”

She asked, she laughed,

Whipped, witch, gelding

And she rode off at a gallop...

“Where?..” - they looked at each other

Our men are here

They stand, silent, looking down...

The night has long since passed,

The stars lit up frequently

In the high skies

The moon has surfaced, the shadows are black

The road was cut

Zealous walkers.

Oh shadows! black shadows!

Who won't you catch up with?

Who won't you overtake?

Only you, black shadows,

You can't catch it - you can't hug it!

To the forest, to the path-path

Pakhom looked, remained silent,

I looked - my mind scattered

And finally he said:

"Well! goblin nice joke

He played a joke on us!

No way, after all, we are almost

We've gone thirty versts!

Now tossing and turning home -

We're tired - we won't get there,

Let's sit down - there's nothing to do.

Let's rest until the sun!..”

Blaming the trouble on the devil,

Under the forest along the path

The men sat down.

They lit a fire, formed a formation,

Two people ran for vodka,

And the others as long as

The glass was made

The birch bark has been touched.

The vodka arrived soon.

The snack has arrived -

The men are feasting!

They drank three kosushki,

We ate and argued

Again: who has fun living?

Free in Rus'?

Roman shouts: to the landowner,

Demyan shouts: to the official,

Luka shouts: ass;

Kupchina fat-bellied, -

The Gubin brothers are shouting,

Ivan and Mitrodor;

Pakhom shouts: to the brightest

To the noble boyar,

To the sovereign minister,

And Prov shouts: to the king!

It took more than before

Perky men,

They swear obscenely,

No wonder they grab it

In each other's hair...

Look - they've already grabbed it!

Roman is pushing Pakhomushka,

Demyan pushes Luka.

And the two Gubina brothers

They iron the hefty Provo, -

And everyone shouts his own!

A booming echo woke up,

Let's go for a walk,

Let's go scream and shout

As if to tease

Stubborn men.

To the king! - heard to the right

To the left responds:

Ass! ass! ass!

The whole forest was in commotion

With flying birds

Swift-footed beasts

And creeping reptiles, -

And a groan, and a roar, and a roar!

First of all, little gray bunny

From a nearby bush

Suddenly he jumped out, as if disheveled,

And he ran away!

Small jackdaws follow him

Birch trees were raised at the top

A nasty, sharp squeak.

And then there’s the warbler

Tiny chick with fright

Fell from the nest;

The warbler chirps and cries,

Where is the chick? – he won’t find it!

Then the old cuckoo

I woke up and thought

Someone to cuckoo;

Accepted ten times

Yes, I got lost every time

And started again...

Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo!

The bread will begin to spike,

You'll choke on an ear of corn -

You won't cuckoo!

Seven eagle owls flew together,

Admiring the carnage

From seven big trees,

They're laughing, night owls!

And their eyes are yellow

They burn like burning wax

Fourteen candles!

And the raven, a smart bird,

Arrived, sitting on a tree

Right by the fire.

Sits and prays to the devil,

To be slapped to death

Which one!

Cow with a bell

That I got lost in the evening

She came to the fire and stared

Eyes on the men

I listened to crazy speeches

And I began, my dear,

Moo, moo, moo!

The stupid cow moos

Small jackdaws squeak.

The boys are screaming,

And the echo echoes everyone.

He has only one concern -

Teasing honest people

Scare the boys and women!

Nobody saw him

And everyone has heard,

Without a body - but it lives,

Without a tongue - screams!

Owl - Zamoskvoretskaya

The princess is immediately mooing,

Flies over the peasants

Crashing on the ground,

About the bushes with the wing...

The fox herself is cunning,

Out of womanish curiosity,

Snuck up on the men

I listened, I listened

And she walked away, thinking:

“And the devil won’t understand them!”

Indeed: the debaters themselves

They hardly knew, they remembered -

What are they making noise about...

Having bruised my sides quite a bit

To each other, we came to our senses

Finally, the peasants

They drank from a puddle,

Washed, freshened up,

Sleep began to tilt them...

Meanwhile, the tiny chick,

Little by little, half a seedling,

Flying low,

I got close to the fire.

Pakhomushka caught him,

He brought it to the fire and looked at it

And he said: “Little bird,

And the marigold is awesome!

I breathe and you'll roll off your palm,

If I sneeze, you'll roll into the fire,

If I click, you'll roll around dead

But you, little bird,

Stronger than a man!

The wings will soon get stronger,

Bye bye! wherever you want

That's where you'll fly!

Oh, you little birdie!

Give us your wings

We'll fly around the whole kingdom,

Let's see, let's explore,

Let's ask around and find out:

Who lives happily?

Is it at ease in Rus'?

“You wouldn’t even need wings,

If only we had some bread

Half a pound a day, -

And so we would Mother Rus'

They tried it on with their feet!” -

Said the gloomy Prov.

“Yes, a bucket of vodka,” -

They added eagerly

Before vodka, the Gubin brothers,

Ivan and Metrodor.

“Yes, in the morning there would be cucumbers

Ten of salty ones,” -

The men were joking.

“And at noon I would like a jug

Cold kvass."

“And in the evening, have a cup of tea

Have some hot tea..."

While they were talking,

The warbler whirled and whirled

Above them: listened to everything

And she sat down by the fire.

Chiviknula, jumped up

Pahomu says:

“Let the chick go free!

For a chick for a small one

I will give a large ransom."

- What will you give? -

“I’ll give you some bread

Half a pound a day

I'll give you a bucket of vodka,

I'll give you some cucumbers in the morning,

And at noon, sour kvass,

And in the evening, tea!”

- And where,

Page 2 of 11

small bird, -

The Gubin brothers asked,

You will find wine and bread

Are you like seven men? -

“If you find it, you will find it yourself.

And I, little birdie,

I'll tell you how to find it."

- Tell! -

"Walk through the forest,

Against pillar thirty

Just a mile away:

Come to the clearing,

They are standing in that clearing

Two old pine trees

Under these pine trees

The box is buried.

Get her, -

That magic box:

It contains a self-assembled tablecloth,

Whenever you wish,

He will feed you and give you something to drink!

Just say quietly:

"Hey! self-assembled tablecloth!

Treat the men!”

According to your wishes,

At my command,

Everything will appear immediately.

Now let the chick go!”

- Wait! we are poor people

We are going on a long journey, -

Pakhom answered her. -

I see you are a wise bird,

Respect old clothes

Bewitch us!

- So that the peasant Armenians

Worn, not torn down! -

Roman demanded.

- So that fake bast shoes

They served, they didn’t crash, -

Demyan demanded.

- Damn the louse, vile flea

She didn’t breed in shirts, -

Luka demanded.

- If only he could spoil... -

The Gubins demanded...

And the bird answered them:

“The tablecloth is all self-assembled

Repair, wash, dry

You will... Well, let me go!..”

Opening your palm wide,

He released the chick with his groin.

He let it in - and the tiny chick,

Little by little, half a seedling,

Flying low,

Headed towards the hollow.

A warbler flew behind him

And on the fly she added:

“Look, mind you, one thing!

How much food can he bear?

Womb - then ask,

And you can ask for vodka

Exactly a bucket a day.

If you ask more,

And once and twice - it will be fulfilled

At your request,

And the third time there will be trouble!

And the warbler flew away

With your birth chick,

And the men in single file

We reached for the road

Look for pillar thirty.

Found! - They walk silently

Straightforward, straight forward

Through the dense forest,

Every step counts.

And how they measured the mile,

We saw a clearing -

They are standing in that clearing

Two old pine trees...

The peasants dug around

Got that box

Opened and found

That tablecloth is self-assembled!

They found it and cried out at once:

“Hey, self-assembled tablecloth!

Treat the men!”

Lo and behold, the tablecloth unfolded,

Where did they come from?

Two hefty arms

They put a bucket of wine,

They piled up a mountain of bread

And they hid again.

“Why are there no cucumbers?”

“Why is there no hot tea?”

“Why is there no cold kvass?”

Everything appeared suddenly...

The peasants got loose

They sat down by the tablecloth.

There's a feast here!

Kissing for joy

They promise each other

Don't fight in vain,

But the matter is really controversial

According to reason, according to God,

On the honor of the story -

Don't toss and turn in the houses,

Don't see your wives

Not with the little guys

Not with old people,

As long as the matter is moot

No solution will be found

Until they find out

No matter what for certain:

Who lives happily?

Free in Rus'?

Having made such a vow,

In the morning like dead

The men fell asleep...

Chapter I. POP

Wide path

Furnished with birch trees,

Stretches far

Sandy and deaf.

On the sides of the path

There are gentle hills

With fields, with hayfields,

And more often with an inconvenient

Abandoned land;

There are old villages,

There are new villages,

By the rivers, by the ponds...

Forests, floodplain meadows,

Russian streams and rivers

Good in spring.

But you, spring fields!

On your shoots the poor

Not fun to watch!

“It’s not for nothing that in the long winter

(Our wanderers interpret)

It snowed every day.

Spring has come - the snow has had its effect!

He is humble for the time being:

It flies - is silent, lies - is silent,

When he dies, then he roars.

Water – everywhere you look!

The fields are completely flooded

Carrying manure - there is no road,

And the time is not too early -

The month of May is coming!”

I don’t like the old ones either,

It’s even more painful for new ones

They should look at the villages.

Oh huts, new huts!

You are smart, let him build you up

Not an extra penny,

And blood trouble!..

In the morning we met wanderers

More and more small people:

Your brother, a peasant-basket worker,

Craftsmen, beggars,

Soldiers, coachmen.

From the beggars, from the soldiers

The strangers did not ask

How is it for them - is it easy or difficult?

Lives in Rus'?

Soldiers shave with an awl,

Soldiers warm themselves with smoke -

What happiness is there?..

The day was already approaching evening,

They go along the road,

A priest is coming towards me.

The peasants took off their caps.

bowed low,

Lined up in a row

And the gelding Savras

They blocked the way.

The priest raised his head

He looked and asked with his eyes:

What do they want?

“I suppose! We are not robbers! -

Luke said to the priest.

(Luka is a squat guy,

With a wide beard.

Stubborn, vocal and stupid.

Luke looks like a mill:

One is not a bird mill,

That, no matter how it flaps its wings,

Probably won't fly.)

“We are sedate men,

Of those temporarily obliged,

A tightened province,

Terpigoreva County,

Empty parish,

Nearby villages:

Zaplatova, Dyryavina,

Razutova, Znobishina,

Gorelova, Neelova -

Bad harvest too.

Let's go on something important:

We have concerns

Is it such a concern?

Which of the houses did she survive?

She made us friends with work,

I stopped eating.

Give us the right word

To our peasant speech

Without laughter and without cunning,

According to conscience, according to reason,

To answer truthfully

Not so with your care

We'll go to someone else..."

– I give you my true word:

If you ask the matter,

Without laughter and without cunning,

In truth and in reason,

How should one answer?

"Thank you. Listen!

Walking the path,

We came together by chance

They came together and argued:

Who has fun?

Free in Rus'?

Roman said: to the landowner,

Demyan said: to the official,

And I said: ass.

Kupchina fat-bellied, -

The Gubin brothers said,

Ivan and Metrodor.

Pakhom said: to the brightest

To the noble boyar,

To the sovereign minister.

And Prov said: to the king...

The guy's a bull: he'll get in trouble

What a whim in the head -

Stake her from there

You can’t knock it out: no matter how much they argue,

We did not agree!

Having argued, we quarreled,

Having quarreled, they fought,

Having caught up, they changed their minds:

Don't go apart

Don't toss and turn in the houses,

Don't see your wives

Not with the little guys

Not with old people,

As long as our dispute

We won't find a solution

Until we find out

Whatever it is - for certain:

Who likes to live happily?

Free in Rus'?

Tell us in a divine way:

Is the priest's life sweet?

How are you - at ease, happily

Are you living, honest father?..”

I looked down and thought,

Sitting in a cart, pop

And he said: “Orthodox!”

It is a sin to grumble against God,

I bear my cross with patience,

I’m living... but how? Listen!

I'll tell you the truth, the truth,

And you have a peasant mind

Be smart! -

“Begin!”

– What do you think is happiness?

Peace, wealth, honor -

Isn't that right, dear friends?

They said: “Yes”...

- Now let's see, brothers,

What is butt peace like?

I have to admit, I should start

Almost from birth itself,

How to get a diploma

the priest's son,

At what cost to Popovich

The priesthood is bought

Let's better keep quiet!

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

Page 3 of 11

. . . . . . . . . .

Our roads are difficult.

Our parish is large.

Sick, dying,

Born into the world

They don’t choose time:

In reaping and haymaking,

In the dead of autumn night,

In winter, in severe frosts,

And in the spring flood -

Go wherever you are called!

You go unconditionally.

And even if only the bones

Alone broke, -

No! gets wet every time,

The soul will hurt.

Don't believe it, Orthodox Christians,

There is a limit to habit:

No heart can bear

Without any trepidation

Death rattle

Funeral lament

Orphan's sadness!

Amen!.. Now think.

What's the peace like?..

The peasants thought little

Letting the priest rest,

They said with a bow:

“What else can you tell us?”

- Now let's see, brothers,

What is the honor of a priest?

The task is delicate

I wouldn't anger you...

Tell me, Orthodox,

Who do you call

Foal breed?

Chur! respond to demand!

The peasants hesitated.

They are silent - and the priest is silent...

-Who are you afraid of meeting?

Walking the path?

Chur! respond to demand!

They groan, shift,

- Who are you writing about?

You are joker fairy tales,

And the songs are obscene

And all sorts of blasphemy?..

Mother-priest, sedate,

Popov's innocent daughter,

Every seminarian -

How do you honor?

To catch whom, like a gelding,

Shout: ho-ho-ho?..

The boys looked down

They are silent - and the priest is silent...

The peasants thought

And pop with a wide hat

I waved it in my face

Yes, I looked at the sky.

In the spring, when the grandchildren are small,

With the ruddy sun-grandfather

The clouds are playing:

Here's the right side

One continuous cloud

Covered - clouded,

It got dark and cried:

Rows of gray threads

They hung to the ground.

And closer, above the peasants,

From small, torn,

Happy clouds

The red sun laughs

Like a girl from the sheaves.

But the cloud has moved,

Pop covers himself with a hat -

Be in heavy rain.

And the right side

Already bright and joyful,

There the rain stops.

It's not rain, it's a miracle of God:

There with golden threads

Hanging skeins...

“Not ourselves... by parents

That’s how we…” – Gubin brothers

They finally said.

And others echoed:

“Not on your own, but on your parents!”

And the priest said: “Amen!”

Sorry, Orthodox!

Not in judging your neighbor,

And at your request

I told you the truth.

Such is the honor of a priest

In the peasantry. And the landowners...

“You’re passing them, the landowners!

We know them!

- Now let's see, brothers,

Where does the wealth come from?

Is Popovskoye coming?..

At a time not far away

Russian Empire

Noble estates

It was full.

And the landowners lived there,

Famous owners

There are none now!

Been fruitful and multiply

And they let us live.

What weddings were played there,

That children were born

On free bread!

Although often tough,

However, willing

Those were the gentlemen

They did not shy away from the arrival:

They got married here

Our children were baptized

They came to us to repent,

We sang their funeral service

And if it did happen,

That a landowner lived in the city,

That's probably how I'll die

Came to the village.

If he dies accidentally,

And then he will punish you firmly

Bury him in the parish.

Look, to the village temple

On a mourning chariot

Six horse heirs

The dead man is being transported -

Good correction for the butt,

For the laity, a holiday is a holiday...

But now it’s not the same!

Like the tribe of Judah,

The landowners dispersed

Across distant foreign lands

And native to Rus'.

Now there's no time for pride

Lie in native possession

Next to fathers, grandfathers,

And there are many properties

Let's go to the profiteers.

Oh sleek bones

Russian, noble!

Where are you not buried?

In what land are you not?

Then, the article... schismatics...

I'm not a sinner, I haven't lived

Nothing from the schismatics.

Fortunately, there was no need:

In my parish there are

Living in Orthodoxy

Two thirds of the parishioners.

And there are such volosts,

Where there are almost all schismatics,

So what about the butt?

Everything in the world is changeable,

The world itself will pass away...

Laws formerly strict

To the schismatics, they softened,

And with them the priest

The income has come.

The landowners moved away

They don't live in estates

And die in old age

They don't come to us anymore.

Rich landowners

Pious old ladies,

Which died out

Who have settled down

Near monasteries,

Nobody wears a cassock now

He won’t give you your butt!

No one will embroider the air...

Live with only peasants,

Collect worldly hryvnias,

Yes, pies on holidays,

Yes, holy eggs.

The peasant himself needs

And I would be glad to give, but there’s nothing...

And then not everyone

And the peasant's penny is sweet.

Our benefits are meager,

Sands, swamps, mosses,

The little beast goes from hand to mouth,

Bread will be born on its own,

And if it gets better

The damp earth is the nurse,

So a new problem:

There is nowhere to go with the bread!

There's a need, you'll sell it

For sheer trifle,

And then there’s a crop failure!

Then pay through the nose,

Sell ​​the cattle.

Pray, Orthodox Christians!

Great trouble threatens

And this year:

The winter was fierce

Spring is rainy

It should have been sowing long ago,

And there is water in the fields!

Have mercy, Lord!

Send a cool rainbow

To our heavens!

(Taking off his hat, the shepherd crosses himself,

And the listeners too.)

Our villages are poor,

And the peasants in them are sick

Yes, women are sad,

Nurses, drinkers,

Slaves, pilgrims

And eternal workers,

Lord give them strength!

With so much work for pennies

Life is hard!

It happens to the sick

You will come: not dying,

The peasant family is scary

At that hour when she has to

Lose your breadwinner!

Give a farewell message to the deceased

And support in the remaining

You try your best

The spirit is cheerful! And here to you

The old woman, the mother of the dead man,

Look, he's reaching out with the bony one,

Calloused hand.

The soul will turn over,

How they jingle in this little hand

Two copper coins!

Of course, it's a clean thing -

I demand retribution

If you don’t take it, you have nothing to live with.

Yes a word of comfort

Freezes on the tongue

And as if offended

You will go home... Amen...

Finished the speech - and the gelding

Pop lightly whipped.

The peasants parted

They bowed low.

The horse trudged slowly.

And six comrades,

It's like we agreed

They attacked with reproaches,

With selected large swearing

To poor Luka:

- What, did you take it? stubborn head!

Country club!

That's where the argument gets into! -

"Nobles of the bell -

The priests live like princes.

They're going under the sky

Popov's tower,

The priest's fiefdom is buzzing -

Loud bells -

For the whole God's world.

For three years I, little ones,

He lived with the priest as a worker,

Raspberries are not life!

Popova porridge - with butter.

Popov pie - with filling,

Popov's cabbage soup - with smelt!

Popov's wife is fat,

The priest's daughter is white,

Popov's horse is fat,

The priest's bee is well-fed,

How the bell rings!”

Page 4 of 11

here's your praise

A priest's life!

Why were you yelling and showing off?

Getting into a fight, anathema?

Wasn't that what I was thinking of taking?

What's a beard like a shovel?

Like a goat with a beard

I walked around the world before,

Than the forefather Adam,

And he is considered a fool

And now he’s a goat!..

Luke stood, kept silent,

I was afraid they wouldn't hit me

Comrades, stand by.

It came to be so,

Yes, to the happiness of the peasant

The road is bent -

The face is priestly stern

Appeared on the hill...

CHAPTER II. RURAL FAIR

No wonder our wanderers

They scolded the wet one,

Cold spring.

The peasant needs spring

And early and friendly,

And here - even a wolf howl!

The sun does not warm the earth,

And the rainy clouds

Like milk cows

They're walking across the sky.

The snow has gone and the greenery

Not a grass, not a leaf!

The water is not removed

The earth doesn't dress

Green bright velvet

And like a dead man without a shroud,

Lies under a cloudy sky

Sad and naked.

I feel sorry for the poor peasant

And I’m even more sorry for the cattle;

Having fed meager supplies,

The owner of the twig

He drove her into the meadows,

What should I take there? Chernekhonko!

Only on Nikola Veshny

The weather has cleared up

Green fresh grass

The cattle feasted.

It's a hot day. Under the birch trees

The peasants are making their way

They chatter among themselves:

“We’re going through one village,

Let's go another - empty!

And today is a holiday,

Where have the people gone?..”

Walking through the village - on the street

Some guys are small,

There are old women in the houses,

Or even completely locked

Lockable gates.

Castle - a faithful dog:

Doesn't bark, doesn't bite,

But he doesn’t let me into the house!

We passed the village and saw

Mirror in green frame:

The edges are full of ponds.

Swallows are flying over the pond;

Some mosquitoes

Agile and skinny

Leaping, as if on dry land,

They walk on the water.

Along the banks, in the broom,

The corncrakes are creaking.

On a long, shaky raft

Thick blanket with roller

Stands like a plucked haystack,

Tucking the hem.

On the same raft

A duck sleeps with her ducklings...

Chu! horse snoring!

The peasants looked at once

And we saw over the water

Two heads: a man's.

Curly and dark,

With an earring (the sun was blinking

On that white earring),

The other is horse

With a rope, five fathoms.

The man takes the rope in his mouth,

The man swims - and the horse swims,

The man neighed - and the horse neighed.

They're swimming and screaming! Under the woman

Under the small ducklings

The raft moves freely.

I caught up with the horse - grab it by the withers!

He jumped up and rode out into the meadow

Baby: white body,

And the neck is like tar;

Water flows in streams

From the horse and from the rider.

“What do you have in your village?

Neither old nor small,

How did all the people die out?”

- We went to the village of Kuzminskoye,

Today there is a fair

And the temple holiday. -

“How far is Kuzminskoye?”

- Yes, it will be about three miles.

“Let's go to the village of Kuzminskoye,

Let's watch the fair!" -

The men decided

And you thought to yourself:

"Isn't that where he's hiding?

Who lives happily?..”

Kuzminskoe rich,

And what’s more, it’s dirty

Trading village.

It stretches along the slope,

Then it descends into the ravine.

And there again on the hill -

How can there not be dirt here?

There are two ancient churches in it,

One Old Believer,

Another Orthodox

House with the inscription: school,

Empty, packed tightly,

A hut with one window,

With the image of a paramedic,

Drawing blood.

There is a dirty hotel

Decorated with a sign

(With a big nosed teapot

Tray in the hands of the bearer,

And small cups

Like a goose with goslings,

That kettle is surrounded)

There are permanent shops

Like a district

Gostiny Dvor…

Strangers came to the square:

There are a lot of different goods

And apparently-invisibly

To the people! Isn't it fun?

It seems there is no godfather,

And, as if in front of icons,

Men without hats.

Such a side thing!

Look where they go

Peasant shliks:

In addition to the wine warehouse,

Taverns, restaurants,

A dozen damask shops,

Three inns,

Yes, “Rensky cellar”,

Yes, a couple of taverns.

Eleven zucchinis

Set for the holiday

Tents in the village.

Each has five carriers;

The carriers are good guys

Trained, mature,

And they can’t keep up with everything,

Can't cope with change!

Look what? stretched out

Peasant hands with hats,

With scarves, with mittens.

Oh Orthodox thirst,

How great are you!

Just to shower my darling,

And there they will get the hats,

When the market leaves.

Over the drunken heads

The spring sun is shining...

Intoxicatingly, vociferously, festively,

Colorful, red all around!

The guys' pants are corduroy,

Striped vests,

Shirts of all colors;

The women are wearing red dresses,

The girls have braids with ribbons,

The winches are floating!

And there are still some tricks,

Dressed like a metropolitan -

And it expands and sulks

Hoop hem!

If you step in, they will dress up!

At ease, newfangled women,

Fishing gear for you

Wear under skirts!

Looking at the smart women,

The Old Believers are furious

Tovarke says:

“Be hungry! be hungry!

Marvel at how the seedlings are soaked,

That the spring flood is worse

It's worth up to Petrov!

Since women began

Dress up in red calico, -

The forests don't rise

At least not this bread!”

- Why are the calicoes red?

Have you done something wrong here, mother?

I can't imagine! -

“And those French calicoes -

Painted with dog blood!

Well... do you understand now?..”

They were jostling around the horse,

Along the hill where they are piled up

Roe deer, rakes, harrows,

Hooks, trolley machines,

Rims, axes.

Trade was brisk there,

With God, with jokes,

With a healthy, loud laugh.

And how can you not laugh?

The guy is kind of tiny

I went and tried the rims:

I bent one - I don’t like it,

He bent the other one and pushed.

How will the rim straighten out?

Click on the guy's forehead!

A man roars over the rim,

"Elm club"

Scolds the fighter.

Another arrived with different

Wooden crafts -

And he dumped the whole cart!

Drunk! The axle broke

And he began to do it -

The ax broke! Changed my mind

Man over an ax

Scolds him, reproaches him,

As if it does the job:

“You scoundrel, not an axe!

Empty service, nothing

And he didn’t serve that one.

All your life you bowed,

But I was never affectionate!”

The wanderers went to the shops:

They admire handkerchiefs,

Ivanovo chintz,

Harnesses, new shoes,

A product of the Kimryaks.

At that shoe shop

The strangers laugh again:

There are goat shoes here

Grandfather traded with granddaughter

Five times about the price

Page 5 of 11

asked

He turned it over in his hands and looked around:

The product is first class!

“Well, uncle! two two hryvnia

Pay up or get lost!” -

The merchant told him.

- Wait a minute! - Admires

An old man with a tiny shoe,

This is what he says:

- I don’t care about my son-in-law, and my daughter will remain silent,

I feel sorry for my granddaughter! Hanged herself

On the neck, fidget:

“Buy a hotel, grandpa.

Buy it!” – Silk head

The face is tickled, caressed,

Kisses the old man.

Wait, barefoot crawler!

Wait, spinning top! Goats

I'll buy some boots...

Vavilushka boasted,

Both old and young

He promised me gifts,

And he drank himself to a penny!

How my eyes are shameless

Will I show it to my family?..

I don’t care about my son-in-law, and my daughter will remain silent,

The wife doesn’t care, let her grumble!

And I feel sorry for my granddaughter!.. - I went again

About my granddaughter! Killing himself!..

The people have gathered, listening,

Don't laugh, feel sorry;

Happen, work, bread

They would help him

And take out two two-kopeck pieces -

So you will be left with nothing.

Yes, there was a man here

Pavlusha Veretennikov

(What kind, rank,

The men didn't know

However, they called him “master”.

He was very good at making jokes,

He wore a red shirt,

Cloth girl,

Grease Boots;

Sang Russian songs smoothly

And he loved listening to them.

Many have seen him

In the inn courtyards,

In taverns, in taverns.)

So he helped Vavila -

I bought him boots.

Vavilo grabbed them

And so he was! - For joy

Thanks even to the master

Old man forgot to say

But other peasants

So they were consoled

So happy, as if everyone

He gave it in rubles!

There was also a bench here

With paintings and books,

Ofeni stocked up

Your goods in it.

“Do you need generals?” -

The burning merchant asked them.

“And give me generals!

Yes, only you, according to your conscience,

To be real -

Thicker, more menacing."

“Wonderful! the way you look! -

The merchant said with a grin, -

It's not a matter of complexion..."

- What is it? You're kidding, friend!

Rubbish, perhaps, is it desirable to sell?

Where are we going to go with her?

You're being naughty! Before the peasant

All generals are equal

Like cones on a spruce tree:

To sell the ugly one,

You need to get to the dock,

And fat and menacing

I'll give it to everyone...

Come on big, dignified ones,

Chest as high as a mountain, eyes bulging,

Yes, for more stars!

“Don’t you want civilians?”

- Well, here we go again with the civilians! -

(However, they took it - cheaply! -

Some dignitary

For a belly the size of a wine barrel

And for seventeen stars.)

Merchant - with all respect,

Whatever he likes, he treats him to it

(From Lubyanka - the first thief!) -

I sent down a hundred Bluchers,

Archimandrite Photius,

Robber Sipko,

Sold the book: “The Jester Balakirev”

And "English my lord" ...

The books went into the box,

Let's go for a walk portraits

According to the All-Russian kingdom,

Until they settle down

In a peasant's summer cottage,

On a low wall...

God knows why!

Eh! eh! will the time come,

When (come, desired one!..)

They will let the peasant understand

What a rose is a portrait of a portrait,

What is the book of the book of roses?

When a man is not Blucher

And not my foolish lord -

Belinsky and Gogol

Will it come from the market?

Oh people, Russian people!

Orthodox peasants!

Have you ever heard

Are you these names?

Those are great names,

Wore them, glorified them

People's intercessors!

Here's some portraits of them for you

Hang in your gorenki,

“And I would be glad to go to heaven, but the door

This kind of speech breaks in

To the shop unexpectedly.

- Which door do you want? -

“Yes, to the booth. Chu! music!.."

- Let's go, I'll show you! -

Having heard about the farce,

Our wanderers have also gone

Listen, look.

Comedy with Petrushka,

With a goat and a drummer

And not with a simple barrel organ,

And with real music

They looked here.

The comedy is not wise,

However, not stupid either

Resident, quarterly

Not in the eyebrow, but straight in the eye!

The hut is completely empty.

People are cracking nuts

Or two or three peasants

Let's exchange a word -

Look, vodka has appeared:

They'll watch and drink!

They laugh, they are consoled

And often in Petrushkin’s speech

Insert an apt word,

Which one you can't think of

At least swallow a feather!

There are such lovers -

How will the comedy end?

They'll go behind the screens,

Kissing, fraternizing,

Chatting with musicians:

“Where from, good fellows?”

- And we were masters,

They played for the landowner.

Now we are free people

Who will bring it, treat it,

He is our master!

“And that’s it, dear friends,

Quite a bar you entertained,

Amuse the men!

Hey! small! sweet vodka!

Liqueurs! some tea! half a beer!

Tsimlyansky - come alive!..”

And the flooded sea

It will do, more generous than the lord's

The kids will be treated to a treat.

It is not the winds that blow violently,

It is not mother earth that sways -

He makes noise, sings, swears,

Swaying, lying around,

Fights and kisses

People are celebrating!

It seemed to the peasants

How we reached the hillock,

That the whole village is shaking,

That even the church is old

With a high bell tower

It shook once or twice! -

Here, sober and naked,

Awkward... Our wanderers

We walked around the square again

And by evening they left

Stormy village...

CHAPTER III. DRUNKEN NIGHT

Not a barn, not a barn,

Not a tavern, not a mill,

How often in Rus',

The village ended low

Log building

With iron bars

In small windows.

Behind that landmark building

Wide path

Furnished with birch trees,

It opened right there.

Not crowded on weekdays,

Sad and quiet

She's not the same now!

All along that path

And along the roundabout paths,

As far as the eye could see,

They crawled, they lay, they drove.

Drunk people were floundering

And there was a groan!

Heavy carts hide,

And like calfs' heads,

Swinging, dangling

Victory heads

Asleep men!

People walk and fall,

As if because of the rollers

Enemies with buckshot

They're shooting at the men!

Silent night is falling

Already out into the dark sky

Moon, really

Page 6 of 11

writes a letter

Lord is red gold

On blue on velvet,

That tricky letter,

Which neither wise men,

It's buzzing! That the sea is blue

Silences, rises

Popular rumor.

“And we give fifty dollars to the clerk:

The request has been made

To the head of the province..."

"Hey! The sack fell from the cart!”

“Where are you going, Olenushka?

Wait! I'll also give you some gingerbread,

You are as agile as a flea,

She ate her fill and jumped away.

I couldn’t stroke it!”

“You are good, royal letter,

Yes, you’re not writing about us...”

“Move aside, people!”

(Excise officials

With bells, with plaques

They rushed from the market.)

“And I mean this now:

And the broom is rubbish, Ivan Ilyich,

And he will walk on the floor,

It will spray wherever!

“God forbid, Parashenka,

Don't go to St. Petersburg!

There are such officials

You are their cook for a day,

And their night is crazy -

So I don’t care!”

“Where are you going, Savvushka?”

(The priest shouts to the sotsky

On horseback, with a government badge.)

- I’m galloping to Kuzminskoye

Behind the stanov. Occasion:

There's a peasant ahead

Killed... - “Eh!.. sins!..”

“You’ve become thinner, Daryushka!”

- Not a spindle, friend!

That's what the more it spins,

It's getting potbellied

And I’m like every day...

"Hey guy, stupid guy,

Ragged, lousy,

Hey, love me!

Me, bareheaded,

Drunk old woman,

Zaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaally!

Our peasants are sober,

Looking, listening,

They go their own way.

In the middle of the road

Some guy is quiet

I dug a big hole.

“What are you doing here?”

- And I’m burying my mother! -

"Fool! what a mother!

Look: a new undershirt

You buried it in the ground!

Go quickly and grunt

Lie down in the ditch and drink some water!

Maybe the crap will come off!”

“Come on, let’s stretch!”

Two peasants sit down

They rest their feet,

And they live, and they push,

They groan and stretch on a rolling pin,

Joints are cracking!

Didn't like it on the rolling pin:

"Let's try now

Stretch your beard!”

When the beard is in order

They reduced each other,

Grabbing your cheekbones!

They puff, blush, writhe,

They moo, squeal, and stretch!

“Let it be to you, damned ones!

You won’t spill water!”

Women are quarreling in the ditch,

One shouts: “Go home

More sick than hard labor!”

Another: - You're lying, in my house

Worse than yours!

My eldest brother-in-law broke my rib,

The middle son-in-law stole the ball,

A ball of spit, but the thing is -

Fifty dollars was wrapped in it,

And the younger son-in-law keeps taking the knife,

He's about to kill him, he's going to kill him!..

“Well, that’s enough, that’s enough, dear!

Well, don't be angry! - behind the roller

It can be heard nearby. -

I’m okay... let’s go!”

Such a bad night!

Is it to the right, is it to the left?

From the road you can see:

Couples are walking together

Isn't it the right grove that they're heading towards?

The nightingales are singing...

The road is crowded

What later is uglier:

More and more often they come across

Beaten, crawling,

Lying in a layer.

Without swearing, as usual,

Not a word will be uttered,

Crazy, obscene,

She is the loudest!

The taverns are in turmoil,

The leads are mixed up

Scared horses

They run without riders;

Little children are crying here.

Wives and mothers grieve:

Is it easy from drinking

Should I call the men?..

Our wanderers are approaching

And they see: Veretennikov

(What goatskin shoes

Gave it to Vavila)

Talks with peasants.

The peasants are opening up

The gentleman likes:

Pavel will praise the song -

They'll sing it five times, write it down!

Like the proverb -

Write a proverb!

Having written down enough,

Veretennikov told them:

“Russian peasants are smart,

One thing is bad

That they drink until they are stupefied,

They fall into ditches, into ditches -

It’s a shame to see!”

The peasants listened to that speech,

They agreed with the master.

Pavlusha has something in a book

I wanted to write already.

Yes, he turned up drunk

Man, he is against the master

Lying on his stomach

I looked into his eyes,

I kept silent - but suddenly

How he will jump up! Straight to the master -

Grab the pencil from your hands!

- Wait, empty head!

Crazy news, shameless

Don't talk about us!

What were you jealous of!

Why is the poor thing having fun?

Peasant soul?

We drink a lot from time to time,

And we work more.

You see a lot of us drunk,

And there are more of us sober.

Have you walked around the villages?

Let's take a bucket of vodka,

Let's go through the huts:

In one, in the other they will pile up,

And in the third they won’t touch -

We have a drinking family

Non-drinking family!

They don’t drink, and they also toil,

It would be better if they drank, stupid ones,

Yes, conscience is like that...

It’s wonderful to watch how he bursts in

In such a sober hut

A man's trouble -

And I wouldn’t even look!.. I saw it

Are Russian villages in the midst of suffering?

In a drinking establishment, what, people?

We have vast fields,

And not much generous,

Tell me, by whose hand

In the spring they will dress,

Will they undress in the fall?

Have you met a guy

After work in the evening?

To reap a good mountain

I set it down and ate a pea-sized piece:

"Hey! hero! straw

I’ll knock you over, move aside!”

Peasant food is sweet,

The whole century saw an iron saw

He chews but doesn't eat!

Yes, the belly is not a mirror,

We don’t cry for food...

You work alone

And the work is almost over,

Look, there are three shareholders standing:

God, king and lord!

And there is also a destroyer

Fourth, be meaner than the Tatar,

So he won’t share

He'll gobble it all up alone!

The third year is upon us

The same inferior gentleman,

Like you, from near Moscow.

Records songs

Tell him the proverb

Leave the riddle behind.

And there was another one - he was interrogating,

How many hours will you work per day?

Little by little, by a lot

Do you shove pieces into your mouth?

Another one measures the land,

Another in the village of inhabitants

He can count it on his fingers,

But they didn’t count it,

How much each summer

The fire is blowing into the wind

Peasant labor?..

There is no measure for Russian hops.

Have they measured our grief?

Is there a limit to the work?

Wine brings down the peasant,

Doesn't grief overwhelm him?

Work isn't going well?

A man does not measure troubles

Copes with everything

No matter what, come.

A man, working, does not think,

Which will strain your strength.

So really over a glass

Think about what's too much

Will you end up in a ditch?

Why is it shameful for you to look,

Like drunk people lying around

So look,

Like being dragged out of a swamp

Peasants have wet hay,

Having mowed down, they drag:

Where horses can't get through

Where and without a burden on foot

It's dangerous to cross

There's a peasant horde there

According to the Kochs, according to the Zhorins

Crawling with whips -

The peasant's navel is cracking!

Under the sun without hats,

In sweat, in mud up to the top of my head,

Cut up by sedge,

Swamp reptile-midge

Eaten into blood, -

Are we prettier here?

To regret - to regret skillfully,

To the master's measure

Don't kill the peasant!

Not gentle white-handed ones,

And we are great people

At work and at play!..

Every peasant

The soul is like a black cloud -

Angry, menacing - and it would be necessary

Thunder will roar from there,

Bloody rains,

And it all ends with wine.

A little charm went through my veins -

And the kind one laughed

Peasant soul!

There is no need to grieve here,

Look around - rejoice!

Hey guys, hey

Page 7 of 11

young ladies,

They know how to go for a walk!

The bones waved

They reeled my darling out,

And the bravery is brave

Saved for the occasion!..

The man stood on the bolster

He stamped his little shoes

And, after being silent for a moment,

Admiring the cheerful

Roaring crowd:

- Hey! you are a peasant kingdom,

Hatless, drunk,

Make noise – make more noise!.. -

“What’s your name, old lady?”

- And what? will you write it down in a book?

Perhaps there is no need!

Write: “In the village of Basovo

Yakim Nagoy lives,

He works himself to death

He drinks until he’s half dead!..”

The peasants laughed

And they told the master,

What a man Yakim is.

Yakim, wretched old man,

I once lived in St. Petersburg,

Yes, he ended up in jail:

I decided to compete with the merchant!

Like a piece of velcro,

He returned to his homeland

And he took up the plow.

It's been roasting for thirty years since then

On the strip under the sun,

He escapes under the harrow

From frequent rain,

He lives and tinkers with the plow,

And death will come to Yakimushka -

As the lump of earth falls off,

What's stuck on the plow...

There was an incident with him: pictures

He bought it for his son

Hung them on the walls

And he himself is no less than a boy

I loved looking at them.

God's disfavor has come

The village caught fire -

And it was at Yakimushka’s

accumulated over a century

Thirty-five rubles.

I’d rather take the rubles,

And first he showed pictures

He began to tear it off the wall;

Meanwhile his wife

I was fiddling with icons,

And then the hut collapsed -

Yakim made such a mistake!

The virgins merged into a lump,

For that lump they give him

Eleven rubles...

“Oh brother Yakim! not cheap

The pictures worked!

But to a new hut

I suppose you hung them?”

- I hung it up - there are new ones, -

Yakim said and fell silent.

The master looked at the plowman:

The chest is sunken; as if pressed in

Stomach; at the eyes, at the mouth

Bends like cracks

On dry ground;

And to Mother Earth myself

He looks like: brown neck,

Like a layer cut off by a plow,

Brick face

Hand - tree bark,

And the hair is sand.

The peasants, as they noted,

Why are you not offended by the master?

Yakimov's words,

And they themselves agreed

With Yakim: – The word is true:

We should drink!

If we drink, it means we feel strong!

Great sadness will come,

How can we stop drinking!..

Work wouldn't stop me

Trouble would not prevail

Hops will not overcome us!

Is not it?

“Yes, God is merciful!”

- Well, have a glass with us!

We got some vodka and drank it.

Yakim Veretennikov

He brought two scales.

- Hey master! didn't get angry

Smart little head!

(Yakim told him.)

Smart little head

How can one not understand a peasant?

Do pigs walk around? zemi -

They can’t see the sky forever!..

Suddenly the song rang out in chorus

Daring, consonant:

Ten three young men,

They're tipsy and don't lie down,

They walk side by side, sing,

They sing about Mother Volga,

About brave daring,

About girlish beauty.

The whole road became silent,

That one song is funny

Rolls wide and freely

Like rye spreading in the wind,

According to the peasant's heart

It goes with fire and melancholy!..

I'll go away to that song

I lost my mind and cried

Young girl alone:

“My age is like a day without the sun,

My age is like a night without a month,

And I, young and young,

Like a greyhound horse on a leash,

What is a swallow without wings!

My old husband, jealous husband,

He's drunk and drunk, he's snoring,

Me, when I was very young,

And the sleepy one is on guard!”

That's how the young girl cried

Yes, she suddenly jumped off the cart!

"Where?" - the jealous husband shouts,

He stood up and grabbed the woman by the braid,

Like a radish for a cowlick!

Oh! night, drunken night!

Not light, but starry,

Not hot, but with affectionate

Spring breeze!

And to our good fellows

You weren't in vain!

They felt sad for their wives,

It's true: with my wife

Now it would be more fun!

Ivan shouts: “I want to sleep,”

And Maryushka: “And I’m with you!” -

Ivan shouts: “The bed is narrow,”

And Maryushka: “Let’s settle down!” -

Ivan shouts: “Oh, it’s cold,”

And Maryushka: - Let's get warm! -

How do you remember that song?

Without a word - we agreed

Try your casket.

One, why God knows,

Between the field and the road

A thick linden tree has grown.

Strangers crouched under it

And they said carefully:

"Hey! self-assembled tablecloth,

Treat the men!”

And the tablecloth unrolled,

Where did they come from?

Two hefty arms:

They put a bucket of wine,

They piled up a mountain of bread

And they hid again.

The peasants refreshed themselves.

Roman for the guard

Stayed by the bucket

And others intervened

In the crowd - look for the happy one:

They really wanted

Get home soon...

CHAPTER IV. HAPPY

In a loud, festive crowd

The wanderers walked

They shouted the cry:

"Hey! Is there a happy one somewhere?

Show up! If it turns out

That you live happily

We have a ready-made bucket:

Drink for free as much as you like -

We'll treat you to glory!.."

Such unheard of speeches

Sober people laughed

And drunk people are smart

Almost spat in my beard

Zealous screamers.

However, hunters

Take a sip of free wine

Enough was found.

When the wanderers returned

Under the linden tree, calling out a cry,

People surrounded them.

The dismissed sexton came,

Skinny as a sulfur match,

And he let go of his laces,

That happiness is not in pastures,

Not in sables, not in gold,

Not in expensive stones.

“And what?”

- In good humor!

There are limits to possessions

Lords, nobles, kings of the earth,

And the wise's possession -

The entire city of Christ!

If the sun warms you up

Yes, I’ll miss the braid,

So I'm happy! -

“Where will you get the braid?”

- Yes, you promised to give...

“Get lost!” You’re being naughty!..”

An old woman came

Pockmarked, one-eyed,

And she announced, bowing,

How happy she is:

What's in store for her in the fall?

Rap was born to a thousand

On a small ridge.

- Such a large turnip,

These turnips are delicious

And the whole ridge is three fathoms,

And across - arshin! -

They laughed at the woman

But they didn’t give me a drop of vodka:

“Drink at home, old man,

Eat that turnip!”

A soldier came with medals,

I'm barely alive, but I want a drink:

- I'm happy! - speaks.

“Well, open up, old lady,

What is a soldier's happiness?

Don’t hide, look!”

- And that, firstly, is happiness,

What's in twenty battles

I was, not killed!

And secondly, more importantly,

Me even in times of peace

I walked neither full nor hungry,

But he didn’t give in to death!

And thirdly - for offenses,

Great and small

I was beaten mercilessly with sticks,

Just feel it and it’s alive!

"On the! drink, servant!

There's no point in arguing with you:

You are happy - there is no word!

Came with a heavy hammer

Olonchan stonemason,

Broad-shouldered, young:

- And I live - I don’t complain, -

He said, “with his wife, with his mother.”

We don't know the needs!

“What is your happiness?”

- But look (and with a hammer,

He waved it like a feather):

When I wake up before the sun

Let me wake up at midnight,

So I will crush the mountain!

It happened, I can’t boast

Chopping crushed stones

Five silver a day!

Groin raised "happiness"

And, having grunted quite a bit,

Presented to the employee:

“Well, that’s important! won't it be

Running around with this happiness

Is it hard in old age?..”

- Look, don’t boast about your strength, -

The man said with shortness of breath,

Relaxed, thin

(The nose is sharp, like a dead one,

Skinny hands like a rake,

The legs are long like knitting needles,

Not a person - a mosquito). -

I was no worse than a mason

Yes, he also boasted of his strength,

So God punished!

Got it

Page 8 of 11

contractor, beast,

What a simple child,

Taught me to praise

And I’m stupidly happy,

I work for four!

One day I wear a good one

I laid bricks.

And here he is, damned,

And apply it hard:

"What is this? - speaks. -

I don’t recognize Tryphon!

Walk with such a burden

Aren’t you ashamed of the fellow?”

- And if it seems a little,

Add with your master's hand! -

I said, getting angry.

Well, about half an hour, I think

I waited, and he planted,

And he planted it, you scoundrel!

I hear it myself - the craving is terrible,

I didn’t want to back away.

And I brought that damn burden

I'm on the second floor!

The contractor looks and wonders

Shouts, scoundrel, from there:

“Oh well done, Trofim!

You don't know what you did:

You took one down at the very least

Fourteen pounds!

Oh, I know! heart with a hammer

Beating in the chest, bloody

There are circles in the eyes,

My back feels like it's cracked...

They are shaking, their legs are weak.

I've been wasting away since then!..

Pour half a glass, brother!

“Pour? Where is the happiness here?

We treat the happy

What did you say!”

- Listen to the end! there will be happiness!

“Why, speak up!”

- Here's what. In my homeland

Like every peasant,

I wanted to die.

From St. Petersburg, relaxed,

Crazy, almost without memory,

I got into the car.

Well, here we go.

In the carriage - feverish,

Hot workers

There are a lot of us

Everyone wanted the same thing

How do I get to my homeland?

To die at home.

However, you need happiness

And here: we were traveling in the summer,

In the heat, in the stuffiness

Many people are confused

Completely sick heads,

Hell broke out in the carriage:

He moans, he rolls,

Like a catechumen, across the floor,

He raves about his wife, mother.

Well, at the nearest station

Down with this!

I looked at my comrades

I was burning all over, thinking -

Bad luck for me too.

There are purple circles in the eyes,

And everything seems to me, brother,

Why am I cutting up peuns!

(We are also bastards,

It happened to fatten up a year

Up to a thousand goiters.)

Where did you remember, damned ones!

I already tried to pray,

No! everyone is going crazy!

Will you believe it? the whole party

He's in awe of me!

The larynxes are cut,

Blood is gushing, but they are singing!

And I with a knife: “Fuck you!”

How the Lord has had mercy,

Why didn't I scream?

I’m sitting, strengthening myself... fortunately,

The day is over, and by evening

It got cold - he took pity

God is above the orphans!

Well, that's how we got there,

And I made my way home,

And here, by God's grace,

And it became easier for me...

-What are you bragging about here?

With your peasant happiness? -

Screams broken to his feet

Yard man. -

And you treat me:

I'm happy, God knows!

From the first boyar,

At Prince Peremetyev's,

I was a beloved slave.

The wife is a beloved slave,

And the daughter is with the young lady

I also studied French

And to all kinds of languages,

She was allowed to sit down

In the presence of the princess...

Oh! how it stung!.. fathers!.. -

(And started the right leg

Rub with your palms.)

The peasants laughed.

“Why are you laughing, you fools?”

Unexpectedly angry

The yard man screamed. -

I'm sick, should I tell you?

What do I pray to the Lord for?

Getting up and going to bed?

I pray: “Leave me, Lord,

My illness is honorable,

According to her, I am a nobleman!

Not your vile sickness,

Not hoarse, not hernia -

A noble disease

What kind of thing is there?

Among the top officials in the empire,

I'm sick, man!

It's called a game!

To get it -

Champagne, Bourgogne,

Tokaji, Hungarian

You need to drink for thirty years...

Behind the chair of His Serene Highness

At Prince Peremetyev's

I stood for forty years

With the best French truffle

I licked the plates

Foreign drinks

I drank from the glasses...

Well, pour it! -

“Get lost!”

We have peasant wine,

Simple, not overseas -

Not on your lips!

Yellow-haired, hunched over,

He crept timidly up to the wanderers

Belarusian peasant

This is where he reaches for vodka:

- Pour me some manenichko too,

I'm happy! - speaks.

“Don’t bother with your hands!

Report, prove

First, what makes you happy?”

– And our happiness is in the bread:

I'm at home in Belarus

With chaff, with bonfire

He chewed barley bread;

You writhe like a woman in labor,

How it grabs your stomach.

And now, the mercy of God! -

Gubonin has his fill

They give you rye bread,

I'm chewing - I won't get chewed! -

It's kind of cloudy

A man with a curled cheekbone,

Everything looks to the right:

- I go after the bears.

And I feel great happiness:

Three of my comrades

The teddy bears were broken,

And I live, God is merciful!

“Well, look to the left?”

I didn’t look, no matter how hard I tried,

What scary faces

Neither did the man make a face:

- The bear turned me over

Manenichko cheekbone! -

“And you compare yourself with the other one,

Give her your right cheek -

He’ll fix it...” – They laughed,

However, they brought it.

Ragged beggars

Hearing the smell of foam,

And they came to prove

How happy they are:

– There’s a shopkeeper at our doorstep

Greeted with alms

And we’ll enter the house, just like that from the house

They escort you to the gate...

Let's sing a little song,

The hostess runs to the window

With an edge, with a knife,

And we are filled with:

“Come on, come on - the whole loaf,

Doesn't wrinkle or crumble,

Hurry up for you, hurry up for us..."

Our wanderers realized

Why was vodka wasted for nothing?

By the way, and a bucket

End. “Well, that will be yours!

Hey, man's happiness!

Leaky with patches,

Humpbacked with calluses,

Go home!”

- And you, dear friends,

Ask Ermila Girin, -

He said, sitting down with the wanderers,

Villages of Dymoglotov

Peasant Fedosey. -

If Yermil doesn’t help,

Will not be declared lucky

So there’s no point in wandering around...

“Who is Yermil?

Is it the prince, the illustrious count?”

- Not a prince, not an illustrious count,

But he’s just a man!

“You speak more intelligently,

Sit down and we'll listen,

What kind of person is Yermil?”

- And here’s what: an orphan’s

Yermilo kept the mill

On Unzha. By court

Decided to sell the mill:

Yermilo came with the others

To the auction room.

Empty buyers

They quickly fell off.

One merchant Altynnikov

He entered into battle with Yermil,

Keeps up, bargains,

It costs a pretty penny.

How angry Yermilo will be -

Grab five rubles at once!

The merchant again a pretty penny,

They started a battle;

The merchant gives him a penny,

And he gave him a ruble!

Altynnikov could not resist!

Yes, there was an opportunity here:

They immediately began to demand

Deposits third part,

And the third part is up to a thousand.

There was no money with Yermil,

Did he really mess up?

Did the clerks cheat?

But it turned out to be rubbish!

Altynnikov cheered up:

“It turns out it’s my mill!”

"No! - says Ermil,

Approaches the chairman. -

Is it possible for your honor

Wait for half an hour?

- What will you do in half an hour?

“I’ll bring the money!”

-Where can you find it? Are you sane?

Thirty-five versts to the mill,

And an hour later I'm present

The end, my dear!

“So, will you allow me half an hour?”

- We’ll probably wait an hour! -

Yermil went; clerks

The merchant and I exchanged glances,

Laugh, scoundrels!

To the square to the shopping area

Yermilo came (in the city

It was a market day)

He stood on the cart and saw: he was baptized,

On all four sides

Shouts: “Hey, good people!

Shut up, listen,

I’ll tell you my word!”

The crowded square became silent,

And then Yermil talks about the mill

He told the people:

“Long ago the merchant Altynnikov

Went to the mill,

Yes, I didn’t make a mistake either,

I checked in the city five times,

They said: s

Page 9 of 11

rebidding

Bidding has been scheduled.

Idle, you know

Transport the treasury to the peasant

A side road is not a hand:

I arrived penniless

And lo and behold, they got it wrong

No rebidding!

Vile souls have cheated,

And the infidels laugh:

“What in the world are you going to do?

Where will you find money?

Maybe I’ll find it, God is merciful!

Cunning, strong clerks,

And their world is stronger,

The merchant Altynnikov is rich,

And everything cannot resist him

Against the worldly treasury -

She's like a fish from the sea

For centuries to catch - not to catch.

Well, brothers! God sees

I'll get rid of it that Friday!

The mill is not dear to me,

The offense is great!

If you know Ermila,

If you believe Yermil,

So help me out, or something!..”

And a miracle happened:

Throughout the market square

Every peasant has

Like the wind, half left

Suddenly it turned upside down!

The peasantry forked out

They bring money to Yermil,

They give to those who are rich in what.

Yermilo is a literate guy,

Put your hat full

Tselkovikov, foreheads,

Burnt, beaten, tattered

Peasant bank notes.

Yermilo took it - he didn’t disdain

And a copper penny.

Still he would become disdainful,

When did I come across here

Another copper hryvnia

More than a hundred rubles!

The entire amount has already been fulfilled,

And people's generosity

Grew: - Take it, Ermil Ilyich,

If you give it away, it won’t go to waste! -

Yermil bowed to the people

On all four sides

He walked into the ward with a hat,

Clutching the treasury in it.

The clerks were surprised

Altynnikov turned green,

How he completely the whole thousand

He laid it out on the table for them!..

Not a wolf's tooth, but a fox's tail, -

Let's go play around with the clerks,

Congratulations on your purchase!

Yes, Yermil Ilyich is not like that,

Didn't say too much.

I didn’t give them a penny!

The whole city came to watch,

Like on market day, Friday,

In a week's time

Ermil on the same square

People were counting.

Remember where everyone is?

At that time things were done

In a fever, in a hurry!

However, there were no disputes

And give out a penny too much

Yermil didn’t have to.

Also - he himself said -

An extra ruble, God knows whose!

Stayed with him.

All day with my money open

Yermil walked around and asked:

Whose ruble? I didn’t find it.

The sun has already set,

When from the market square

Yermil was the last to move,

Having given that ruble to the blind...

So this is what Ermil Ilyich is like. -

“Wonderful! - said the wanderers. -

However, it is advisable to know -

What kind of witchcraft

A man above the whole neighborhood

Did you take that kind of power?”

- Not by witchcraft, but by truth.

Have you heard about Hellishness?

Yurlov's prince's patrimony?

“You heard, so what?”

- It is the chief manager

There was a gendarmerie corps

Colonel with a star

He has five or six assistants with him,

And our Yermilo is a clerk

Was in the office.

The little one was twenty years old,

What will the clerk do?

However, for the peasant

And the clerk is a man.

You approach him first,

And he will advise

And he will make inquiries;

Where there is enough strength, it will help out,

Doesn't ask for gratitude

And if you give it, he won’t take it!

You need a bad conscience -

To the peasant from the peasant

Extort a penny.

In this way the whole patrimony

At five years old Yermil Girina

I found out well

And then he was kicked out...

They deeply pitied Girin,

It was hard to get used to something new,

Grabber, get used to it,

However, there is nothing to do

We got along in time

And to the new scribe.

He doesn't say a word without a thrasher,

Not a word without the seventh student,

Burnt, from the funhouses -

God told him to!

However, by the will of God,

He did not reign for long, -

The old prince died

The prince arrived when he was young,

I drove that colonel away.

I sent his assistant away

I drove the whole office away,

And he told us from the estate

Elect a mayor.

Well, we didn't think long

Six thousand souls, the whole estate

We shout: “Ermila Girina!” -

How one man is!

They call Ermila to the master.

After talking with the peasant,

From the balcony the prince shouts:

“Well, brothers! have it your way.

With my princely seal

Your choice is confirmed:

The guy is agile, competent,

I’ll say one thing: isn’t he young?..”

And we: - There is no need, father,

And young, and smart! -

Yermilo went to reign

Over the entire princely estate,

And he reigned!

In seven years the world's penny

I didn’t squeeze it under my nail,

At the age of seven I didn’t touch the right one,

He did not allow the guilty one to do so.

I didn’t bend my heart...

“Stop! - shouted reproachfully

Some gray-haired priest

To the storyteller. - You're sinning!

The harrow walked straight ahead,

Yes, suddenly she waved to the side -

The tooth hit the stone!

When I started to tell,

So don't throw out words

From the song: or to wanderers

Are you telling a fairy tale?..

I knew Ermila Girin..."

- I suppose I didn’t know?

We were one fiefdom,

The same parish

Yes, we were transferred...

“And if you knew Girin,

So I knew my brother Mitri,

Think about it, my friend."

The narrator became thoughtful

And, after a pause, he said:

– I lied: the word is superfluous

It went wrong!

There was a case, and Yermil the man

Going crazy: from recruiting

Little brother Mitri

He defended it.

We remain silent: there is nothing to argue here,

The master of the headman's brother himself

I wouldn't tell you to shave

One Nenila Vlaseva

I cry bitterly for my son,

Shouts: not our turn!

It is known that I would shout

Yes, I would have left with that.

So what? Ermil himself,

Having finished recruiting,

I began to feel sad, sad,

Doesn’t drink, doesn’t eat: that’s the end of it,

What's in the stall with the rope

His father found him.

Here the son repented to his father:

“Ever since Vlasyevna’s son

I didn't put it in the queue

I hate the white light!

And he himself reaches for the rope.

They tried to persuade

His father and brother

He’s all the same: “I’m a criminal!

The villain! tie my hands

Take me to court!”

So that worse doesn't happen,

The father tied the hearty one,

He posted a guard.

The world has come together, it is noisy, noisy,

Such a wonderful thing

Never had to

Neither see nor decide.

Ermilov family

That's not what we tried,

So that we can make peace for them,

And judge more strictly -

Return the boy to Vlasyevna,

Otherwise Yermil will hang himself,

You won't be able to spot him!

Yermil Ilyich himself came,

Barefoot, thin, with pads,

With a rope in my hands,

He came and said: “It was time,

I judged you according to my conscience,

Now I myself am more sinful than you:

Judge me!

And he bowed to our feet.

Neither give nor take the holy fool,

Stands, sighs, crosses himself,

It was a pity for us to see

Like him in front of the old woman,

In front of Nenila Vlaseva,

Suddenly he fell to his knees!

Well, everything worked out fine

Mister strong

There is a hand everywhere; Vlasyevna's son

He returned, they handed over Mitri,

Yes, they say, and Mitriya

It's not hard to serve

The prince himself takes care of him.

And for the offense with Girin

We put a fine:

Fine money for a recruit,

A small part of Vlasyevna,

Part of the world for wine...

However, after this

Yermil did not cope soon,

I walked around like crazy for about a year.

No matter how the patrimony asked,

Resigned from his position

I rented that mill

And he became thicker than before

Love to all the people:

He took it for the grind according to his conscience.

Didn't stop people

Clerk, manager,

Rich landowners

And the men are the poorest -

All lines were obeyed,

The order was strict!

I myself am already in that province

Haven't been in a while

And I heard about Ermila,

People don't brag about them,

You go to him.

“You’re passing through in vain,”

The one who argued has already said it

Gray-haired pop. -

I knew Ermila, Girin,

I ended up in that province

Five years ago

(I've traveled a lot in my life,

Our Eminence

Translate priests

Loved)… With Ermila Girin

We were neighbors.

Yes! there was only one man!

He had everything he needed

For happiness: and peace of mind,

And money and honor,

An enviable, true honor,

Not purchased either

Page 10 of 11

money,

Not with fear: with strict truth,

With intelligence and kindness!

Yes, just, I repeat to you,

You are passing in vain

He sits in prison...

“How so?”

- And the will of God!

Have any of you heard,

How the estate rebelled

Landowner Obrubkov,

Frightened province,

Nedykhanev County,

Village Tetanus?..

How to write about fires

In the newspapers (I read them):

"Remained unknown

Reason” – so here:

Until now it is unknown

Not to the zemstvo police officer,

Not to the highest government

Neither the tetanus themselves,

Why did the opportunity arise?

But it turned out to be rubbish.

It took an army.

The Sovereign himself sent

He spoke to the people

Then he’ll try to curse

And shoulders with epaulets

Will lift you high

Then he will try with affection

And chests with royal crosses

In all four directions

It will start turning.

Yes, the abuse was unnecessary here,

And the caress is incomprehensible:

“Orthodox peasantry!

Mother Rus'! Father Tsar!

And nothing more!

Having been beaten enough

They wanted it for the soldiers

Command: fall!

Yes to the volost clerk

A happy thought came here,

It's about Ermila Girin

He said to the boss:

- The people will believe Girin,

The people will listen to him... -

“Call him quickly!”

…………………………….

Suddenly a cry: “Ay, ah! have mercy!"

Suddenly sounding out,

Disturbed the priest's speech,

Everyone rushed to look:

At the road roller

Flog a drunken footman -

Caught stealing!

Where he is caught, here is his judgment:

About three dozen judges came together,

We decided to give a spoonful,

And everyone gave a vine!

The footman jumped up and, spanking

Skinny shoemakers

Without a word, he gave me the traction.

“Look, he ran like he was disheveled! -

Our wanderers joked

Recognizing him as a baluster,

That he was bragging about something

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Notes

Kosushka is an ancient measure of liquid, approximately 0.31 liters.

The cuckoo stops cuckooing when the bread begins to spike (“choking on the ear,” people say).

Floodplain meadows are located in the floodplain of a river. When the river that flooded them during the flood subsided, a layer of natural fertilizer remained on the soil, which is why tall grasses grew here. Such meadows were especially valued.

This refers to the fact that until 1869, a seminary graduate could receive a parish only if he married the daughter of a priest who left his parish. It was believed that in this way the “purity of the class” was maintained.

A parish is an association of believers.

Raskolniks are opponents of the reforms of Patriarch Nikon (XVII century).

Parishioners are regular visitors to the church parish.

Mat - building: end. Checkmate is the end of the game in chess.

Airs are embroidered bedspreads made of velvet, brocade or silk, used during church ceremonies.

Sam is the first part of unchangeable compound adjectives with ordinal or cardinal numerals, with the meaning “so many times more.” Bread itself is a harvest that is twice as large as the amount of grain sown.

Cool rainbow - to the bucket; flat - for rain.

Pyatak is a copper coin of 5 kopecks.

Treba - “the performance of a sacrament or sacred rite” (V.I. Dal).

Smelt is a cheap small fish, lake smelt.

Anathema is a church curse.

Yarmonka – i.e. fair.

St. Nicholas of the Spring is a religious holiday celebrated on May 9 according to the old style (May 22 according to the new style).

A religious procession is a solemn procession of believers with crosses, icons, and banners.

Shlyk - “hat, cap, cap, cap” (V.I. Dal).

Kabak is “a drinking house, a place for selling vodka, sometimes also beer and honey” (V.I. Dal).

A tent is a temporary space for trade, usually a light frame covered with canvas, and later with tarpaulin.

French chintz is a crimson-colored chintz usually dyed using madder, a dye made from the roots of a herbaceous perennial plant.

Equestrian – part of the fair where horses were traded.

Roe deer is a type of heavy plow or light plow with one ploughshare, which rolled the earth only in one direction. In Russia, roe deer was usually used in the northeastern regions.

A cart machine is the main part of a four-wheeled vehicle or cart. It holds the body, wheels and axles.

A harness is a part of the harness that fits the sides and croup of a horse, usually made of leather.

Kimryaks are residents of the city of Kimry. At the time of Nekrasov, it was a large village, 55% of whose residents were shoemakers.

Ofenya is a peddler, “a petty trader peddling and delivering to small towns, villages, villages, with books, paper, silk, needles, with cheese and sausage, with earrings and rings” (V.I. Dal).

Doka is a “master of his craft” (V.I. Dal).

Those. more orders.

Those. not military, but civilians (then civilians).

A dignitary is a high-level official.

Lubyanka - street and square in Moscow, in the 19th century. center for the wholesale trade of popular prints and books.

Blucher Gebhard Leberecht - Prussian general, commander-in-chief of the Prussian-Saxon army, which decided the outcome of the Battle of Waterloo and defeated Napoleon. Military successes made the name of Blucher very popular in Russia.

Archimandrite Photius - in the world Peter Nikitich Spassky, a leader of the Russian church in the 20s. XIX century, was repeatedly joked about in the epigrams of A.S. Pushkin, for example, “Conversation between Photius and gr. Orlova", "On Photius".

Robber Sipko is an adventurer who pretended to be different people, incl. for retired captain I.A. Sipko. In 1860, his trial attracted great public attention.

“Balakirev the Jester” is a popular collection of jokes: “Balakirev’s complete collection of jokes of the jester who was at the court of Peter the Great.”

“The English My Lord” is the most popular work of the 18th century writer Matvey Komarov at that time, “The Tale of the Adventures of the English My Lord George and his Brandenburg Countess Friederike Louise.”

“Goat” is the name given to an actor in the folk theater-booth, on whose head a goat’s head made of burlap was mounted.

Drummer - drumming attracted the audience to performances.

Riga - a barn for drying sheaves and threshing (with a roof, but almost without walls).

Fifty kopecks is a coin worth 50 kopecks.

The Tsar's Charter is the Tsar's letter.

Excise tax is a type of tax on consumer goods.

Sudarka is a lover.

Sotsky was elected from the peasants, who performed police functions.

A spindle is a hand-held tool for spinning yarn.

Tat – “thief, predator, kidnapper” (V.I. Dal).

Kocha is a form of the word “humock” in the Yaroslavl-Kostroma dialect.

Zazhorina - snow water in a hole along the road.

Pletyukha - in northern dialects - a large, tall basket.

Pastures - in Tambov-Ryazan dialects - meadows, pastures; in Arkhangelsk - belongings,

Page 11 of 11

property.

Compassion is a state of mind that is conducive to mercy, goodness, goodness.

Vertograd of Christ is synonymous with paradise.

Arshin is an ancient Russian measure of length equal to 0.71 m.

Olonchanin is a resident of Olonets province.

Peun is a rooster.

A cockerel is a person who fattens roosters for sale.

Truffle is a round-shaped mushroom growing underground. The French black truffle was especially highly prized.

Bonfire - woody parts of flax, hemp, etc. stems.

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Nikolai Alekseevich Nekrasov

Who can live well in Rus'?

PART ONE

In what year - calculate
Guess what land?
On the sidewalk
Seven men came together:
Seven temporarily obliged,
A tightened province,
Terpigoreva County,
Empty parish,
From adjacent villages:
Zaplatova, Dyryavina,
Razutova, Znobishina,
Gorelova, Neelova -
There is also a poor harvest,
They came together and argued:
Who has fun?
Free in Rus'?

Roman said: to the landowner,
Demyan said: to the official,
Luke said: ass.
To the fat-bellied merchant! -
The Gubin brothers said,
Ivan and Metrodor.
Old man Pakhom pushed
And he said, looking at the ground:
To the noble boyar,
To the sovereign minister.
And Prov said: to the king...

The guy's a bull: he'll get in trouble
What a whim in the head -
Stake her from there
You can’t knock them out: they resist,
Everyone stands on their own!
Is this the kind of argument they started?
What do passers-by think?
You know, the kids found the treasure
And they share among themselves...
Each one in his own way
Left the house before noon:
That path led to the forge,
He went to the village of Ivankovo
Call Father Prokofy
Baptize the child.
Groin honeycomb
Carried to the market in Velikoye,
And the two Gubina brothers
So easy with a halter
Catch a stubborn horse
They went to their own herd.
It's high time for everyone
Return on your own way -
They are walking side by side!
They walk as if they are being chased
Behind them are gray wolves,
What's further is quick.
They go - they reproach!
They scream - they won’t come to their senses!
But time doesn’t wait.

They didn’t notice the dispute
As the red sun set,
How evening came.
I'd probably kiss you all night
So they went - where, not knowing,
If only they met a woman,
Gnarled Durandiha,
She didn’t shout: “Reverends!
Where are you looking at night?
Have you decided to go?..”

She asked, she laughed,
Whipped, witch, gelding
And she rode off at a gallop...

“Where?..” - they looked at each other
Our men are here
They stand, silent, looking down...
The night has long since passed,
The stars lit up frequently
In the high skies
The moon has surfaced, the shadows are black
The road was cut
Zealous walkers.
Oh shadows! black shadows!
Who won't you catch up with?
Who won't you overtake?
Only you, black shadows,
You can't catch it - you can't hug it!

To the forest, to the path-path
Pakhom looked, remained silent,
I looked - my mind scattered
And finally he said:

"Well! goblin nice joke
He played a joke on us!
No way, after all, we are almost
We've gone thirty versts!
Now tossing and turning home -
We're tired - we won't get there,
Let's sit down - there's nothing to do.
Let's rest until the sun!..”

Blaming the trouble on the devil,
Under the forest along the path
The men sat down.
They lit a fire, formed a formation,
Two people ran for vodka,
And the others as long as
The glass was made
The birch bark has been touched.
The vodka arrived soon.
The snack has arrived -
The men are feasting!

They drank three kosushki,
We ate and argued
Again: who has fun living?
Free in Rus'?
Roman shouts: to the landowner,
Demyan shouts: to the official,
Luka shouts: ass;
Kupchina fat-bellied, -
The Gubin brothers are shouting,
Ivan and Mitrodor;
Pakhom shouts: to the brightest
To the noble boyar,
To the sovereign minister,
And Prov shouts: to the king!

It took more than before
Perky men,
They swear obscenely,
No wonder they grab it
In each other's hair...

Look - they've already grabbed it!
Roman is pushing Pakhomushka,
Demyan pushes Luka.
And the two Gubina brothers
They iron the hefty Provo, -
And everyone shouts his own!

A booming echo woke up,
Let's go for a walk,
Let's go scream and shout
As if to tease
Stubborn men.
To the king! - heard to the right
To the left responds:
Ass! ass! ass!
The whole forest was in commotion
With flying birds
Swift-footed beasts
And creeping reptiles, -
And a groan, and a roar, and a roar!

First of all, little gray bunny
From a nearby bush
Suddenly he jumped out, as if disheveled,
And he ran away!
Small jackdaws follow him
Birch trees were raised at the top
A nasty, sharp squeak.
And then there’s the warbler
Tiny chick with fright
Fell from the nest;
The warbler chirps and cries,
Where is the chick? – he won’t find it!
Then the old cuckoo
I woke up and thought
Someone to cuckoo;
Accepted ten times
Yes, I got lost every time
And started again...
Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo!
The bread will begin to spike,
You'll choke on an ear of corn -
You won't cuckoo!
Seven eagle owls flew together,
Admiring the carnage
From seven big trees,
They're laughing, night owls!
And their eyes are yellow
They burn like burning wax
Fourteen candles!
And the raven, a smart bird,
Arrived, sitting on a tree
Right by the fire.
Sits and prays to the devil,
To be slapped to death
Which one!
Cow with a bell
That I got lost in the evening
From the herd, I heard a little
Human voices -
She came to the fire and stared
Eyes on the men
I listened to crazy speeches
And I began, my dear,
Moo, moo, moo!

The stupid cow moos
Small jackdaws squeak.
The boys are screaming,
And the echo echoes everyone.
He has only one concern -
Teasing honest people
Scare the boys and women!
Nobody saw him
And everyone has heard,
Without a body - but it lives,
Without a tongue - screams!

Owl - Zamoskvoretskaya
The princess is immediately mooing,
Flies over the peasants
Crashing on the ground,
About the bushes with the wing...

The fox herself is cunning,
Out of womanish curiosity,
Snuck up on the men
I listened, I listened
And she walked away, thinking:
“And the devil won’t understand them!”
Indeed: the debaters themselves
They hardly knew, they remembered -
What are they making noise about...

Having bruised my sides quite a bit
To each other, we came to our senses
Finally, the peasants
They drank from a puddle,
Washed, freshened up,
Sleep began to tilt them...
Meanwhile, the tiny chick,
Little by little, half a seedling,
Flying low,
I got close to the fire.

Pakhomushka caught him,
He brought it to the fire and looked at it
And he said: “Little bird,
And the marigold is awesome!
I breathe and you'll roll off your palm,
If I sneeze, you'll roll into the fire,
If I click, you'll roll around dead
But you, little bird,
Stronger than a man!
The wings will soon get stronger,
Bye bye! wherever you want
That's where you'll fly!
Oh, you little birdie!
Give us your wings
We'll fly around the whole kingdom,
Let's see, let's explore,
Let's ask around and find out:
Who lives happily?
Is it at ease in Rus'?

“You wouldn’t even need wings,
If only we had some bread
Half a pound a day, -
And so we would Mother Rus'
They tried it on with their feet!” -
Said the gloomy Prov.

“Yes, a bucket of vodka,” -
They added eagerly
Before vodka, the Gubin brothers,
Ivan and Metrodor.

“Yes, in the morning there would be cucumbers
Ten of salty ones,” -
The men were joking.
“And at noon I would like a jug
Cold kvass."

“And in the evening, have a cup of tea
Have some hot tea..."

While they were talking,
The warbler whirled and whirled
Above them: listened to everything
And she sat down by the fire.
Chiviknula, jumped up
And in a human voice
Pahomu says:

“Let the chick go free!
For a chick for a small one
I will give a large ransom."

- What will you give? -
“I’ll give you some bread
Half a pound a day
I'll give you a bucket of vodka,
I'll give you some cucumbers in the morning,
And at noon, sour kvass,
And in the evening, tea!”

- And where, little birdie, -
The Gubin brothers asked,
You will find wine and bread
Are you like seven men? -

“If you find it, you will find it yourself.
And I, little birdie,
I'll tell you how to find it."

- Tell! -
"Walk through the forest,
Against pillar thirty
Just a mile away:
Come to the clearing,
They are standing in that clearing
Two old pine trees
Under these pine trees
The box is buried.
Get her, -
That magic box:
It contains a self-assembled tablecloth,
Whenever you wish,
He will feed you and give you something to drink!
Just say quietly:
"Hey! self-assembled tablecloth!
Treat the men!”
According to your wishes,
At my command,
Everything will appear immediately.
Now let the chick go!”

- Wait! we are poor people
We are going on a long journey, -
Pakhom answered her. -
I see you are a wise bird,
Respect old clothes
Bewitch us!

- So that the peasant Armenians
Worn, not torn down! -
Roman demanded.

- So that fake bast shoes
They served, they didn’t crash, -
Demyan demanded.

- Damn the louse, vile flea
She didn’t breed in shirts, -
Luka demanded.

- If only he could spoil... -
The Gubins demanded...

And the bird answered them:
“The tablecloth is all self-assembled
Repair, wash, dry
You will... Well, let me go!..”

Opening your palm wide,
He released the chick with his groin.
He let it in - and the tiny chick,
Little by little, half a seedling,
Flying low,
Headed towards the hollow.
A warbler flew behind him
And on the fly she added:
“Look, mind you, one thing!
How much food can he bear?
Womb - then ask,
And you can ask for vodka
Exactly a bucket a day.
If you ask more,
And once and twice - it will be fulfilled
At your request,
And the third time there will be trouble!
And the warbler flew away
With your birth chick,
And the men in single file
We reached for the road
Look for pillar thirty.
Found! - They walk silently
Straightforward, straight forward
Through the dense forest,
Every step counts.
And how they measured the mile,
We saw a clearing -
They are standing in that clearing
Two old pine trees...
The peasants dug around
Got that box
Opened and found
That tablecloth is self-assembled!
They found it and cried out at once:
“Hey, self-assembled tablecloth!
Treat the men!”
Lo and behold, the tablecloth unfolded,
Where did they come from?
Two hefty arms
They put a bucket of wine,
They piled up a mountain of bread
And they hid again.
“Why are there no cucumbers?”
“Why is there no hot tea?”
“Why is there no cold kvass?”
Everything appeared suddenly...
The peasants got loose
They sat down by the tablecloth.
There's a feast here!
Kissing for joy
They promise each other
Don't fight in vain,
But the matter is really controversial
According to reason, according to God,
On the honor of the story -
Don't toss and turn in the houses,
Don't see your wives
Not with the little guys
Not with old people,
As long as the matter is moot
No solution will be found
Until they find out
No matter what for certain:
Who lives happily?
Free in Rus'?
Having made such a vow,
In the morning like dead
The men fell asleep...